Sending Postcards from the End of the World
by Chaylay23
Summary: The many different times Shawn Spencer's world began and ended. Eventual Shawn/Gus
1. Brownies

A/N: This is a very long, drawn out, eventual Shawn/Gus story. This serves as a warning that the boys still have a long way to go.

* * *

Mr. Laday had it out for Burton Guster. There was no doubt about it. Ever since he'd unwisely corrected his pronunciation of hypertrichosis and Shawn Spencer chose that exact moment to claim that Mr. Laday shouldn't have had a problem pronouncing a condition he obviously had. It wasn't Guster's fault, all he'd done was try to insure his classmates were getting correct information and all Shawn had wanted… well he'd just seen it as another chance to get on a teacher's nerves which would, in turn, get on Henry's nerves. It was a harmless form of revenge and Burton definitely didn't deserve the severe punishment that came with it.

Burton had actually been really excited about the project; they had to construct an exact replica of a chosen dinosaur's anatomy using credited research. He had been so excited he'd volunteered to be the one student to do the project on his own. However, still upset over his outburst, weeks ago he might add, Mr. Laday had other plans.

"And Mr. Spencer, since you've found it necessary to become Mr. Guster's backbone, you can be his partner for this assignment." He turned around; knowing full and well the angry groan he heard came from the seat closest to the front of the room.

And if his parents hadn't scolded him before for combative behavior, Burton would've thrown a tantrum. He would've stood up and demanded a reassignment and, had he known those words Joy sang in her rap songs, he would've cursed the man in the tacky, plaid sweater vest at the front of the room enjoying his discomfort.

But instead, Burton rolled his eyes, cursed his luck and refused to look at the back of the room. Shawn shrugged his shoulders and continued drawing a rather rude picture of Mr. Laday kissing Principal Hendricks' ass. He didn't care who his partner was, it wasn't like he'd have to do anything. Every time someone got paired with him, they assumed he would be a liability or a mooch. They figured it'd be less of a hassle to just sign his name and pretend he didn't exist.

Despite this fact, Burton Guster stopped at Shawn's desk when class ended and dropped a folded piece of notebook paper on top of his artwork with a heartfelt sigh. Knowing it would make him sweat Shawn didn't open it until Burton left the room. Then he read, in painstakingly neat handwriting:

"_456 Hollow Dr._

_Burton Guster: 555-867-6909"_

Shawn lifted his head in confusion, scanning the empty room for some sign this was a joke. But he'd watched that Guster kid and he wouldn't know a prank unless someone provided a Webster definition and drew a damn diagram. He packed his bag and left the room, a little ashamed to have written off the one person that hadn't done the same to him.

* * *

After a week of no contact with Guster, Shawn was sitting at home, eating cereal and watching cartoons when Henry and his mom started shouting. He sighed and kicked at the remote in vain, succeeding only in knocking it off of the couch and onto the floor. He'd just mustered enough annoyance to get off the couch and retrieve it when his mother shuffled in and eyed him curiously.

"Honey, don't you have something you could be doing? Homework, maybe?" She asked, obviously a little frazzled. This was the part he hated most about when his parents fought. They treated him like he was some stupid kid, like he somehow hadn't seen, or heard them fighting not five feet away from him. Henry expected him to be a detective but he also expected him to ignore the obvious.

And he loved his mom, sometimes he thought more than Henry. It hurt to lie. "Uh… yeah. I'm supposed to be doing this dinosaur project with some kid on Hollow Drive."

His mother smiled sadly at him and grabbed her keys and her purse. "That's right around the corner, I'll take you." Then she practically threw them both out of the house and into the yard.

They got in the car and Shawn guessed his mother believed ignorance made him an invalid because she buckled him the front seat like a toddler. As she drove, she talked; about anything really. She talked about Henry's job, about her practice's problems, about his Aunt Nancy and her breast cancer, about his chores, his homework, and his future. When he got out of the car, his mind was reeling. She kissed his forehead and took his hand. "I love you, Shawn." She smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

He knocked on Guster's door and by the time Mrs. Guster answered the door and his mother was down the street, he realized with jarring clarity what she'd told him. She would be staying at Nancy's for a while. She was telling him she'd be leaving for a while but deep down, in the pit of his heart, it felt like she wasn't coming back.

Mrs. Guster seemed like a kind enough woman but, Shawn wasn't in the mood for kind. For once, he found himself speechless. But he wasn't a baby, he was a man now. He was 12 for Christ's sake, he wasn't going to run to a corner and cry. Especially not in front of Guster's mom, and especially not in front of Guster.

"So you're Shawn Spencer? Are you by any chance related to the Mrs. Spencer that does psychology profiles for the police department? She's helped my husband make a case quite a few times. She's a lovely woman; we've been out to lunch a few times when Raymond was stuck at the office." She gently maneuvered Shawn into the kitchen where he was hit with the mouthwatering smell of fresh brownies. He must've been staring at the godsends on the countertop because she chuckled and fetched a plate from a cabinet and placed it next to the pan. "Take two. They're Burton's 'Cheer-Up Brownies'. He's been in such a mood lately I've been getting carpal tunnel with all the baking I've had to do."

Shawn grinned and took a large bite out of one perfectly proportioned dessert, relishing in the chocolate goodness. "These are delicious." He mumbled, remembering what his mother said about speaking with his mouth full.

Mrs. Guster returned his smile and didn't mention his bad manners. She went to the stairs and called for Burton. "Sweetheart, your science partner's here and you've been up there for the past three days. The fresh air will do you good." When she returned, Shawn was on his second and contemplating whether or not he could get away with a third. She frowned a little at the self-conscious look on his face and shook her head. "Go for it, take as many as you like. Burton's been on this new health kick anyway. He's blissfully unaware of the contradiction in too many desserts."

Shawn reached for another brownie after another moment of hesitation. It wasn't like he'd never had freshly baked brownies before, it'd just been a while. Apparently longer than he realized because he'd polished off five before Guster came down the stairs with green paint plastered to his brown forehead and cheek. Given everything his mother had let slip, Shawn could've easily come up with something vicious to say to Guster to embarrass him, make him cry; he'd certainly been given the ammunition. But he didn't want to go home right now. Not when he had brownies and calm conversation he didn't necessarily have to respond to.

"So…" Guster said, shifting his weight from foot to foot, a critical look on his face. Shawn found himself wondering whether this kid ever smiled, outside of getting a teacher's praise. "Are we going to work on _our_ project, or what?"

"Burton." His mother admonished. "Change your tone."

Brow furrowed, Guster tried again. "Are you ready to work?"

Mrs. Guster stepped forward and examined his face, tilting it erratically from the left to the right, upward and downward. "Go wash your face first then you can work." She marched him in the direction he'd come from before returning.

She smiled at him again, wiping her hands on her apron, wedding band reflecting in the kitchen light. Opening the fridge, she began to pour him a glass of chocolate milk, his favorite but Henry didn't even know that. She placed it next to him on the countertop and fetched a brownie for herself. "So, Shawn, I hear you're quite the trouble maker. You seem alright to me." She winked at him, taking a bite.

And with that, Shawn decided he liked it here.

Burton wasn't pleased with the way the paint on his dinosaur looked too much like plastic and not like scales. And he certainly wasn't pleased with the way Shawn Spencer came strolling into his room with chocolate covered fingers, dirt tracking sneakers and a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He'd been working furiously on this project for the past four days, alone he might add, and Shawn hadn't done anything to help. Granted, he should've expected it; he'd heard from everyone else Shawn had been partnered with that he preferred to be a silent bystander.

But then again, Shawn had never come to their houses. Before he could feel accomplished in this feat, he reasoned Shawn had probably just been bored at home doing whatever kids like him did by themselves. Like watch late night cable channels or spray paint school property and all those other things his parents thought Joy didn't do with her 'little friends' on those nights she wasn't forced to keep track of her brother.

So he put Shawn to work. Put him in charge of mixing the material for the paper mache while he cut strips of newspaper. They worked in silence, Burton focused on his project and Shawn grateful for a task to keep his mind off of his mother's departure. Before they'd realized, three hours had passed and Mrs. Guster was calling Shawn down the stairs and asking if he planned on staying for dinner or if his parents were expecting him. Knowing Henry, he probably hadn't realized Shawn had left. That or he thought he was out with his mother who'd bring him back for dinner, that the three of them would sit down to until Henry would inevitably be called in to cover someone else's shift.

But Shawn didn't mention any of this, choosing instead to lie. "Yeah, my dad is expecting me." He turned to face Guster, his eyes on his shoes. "I'll see you later—"

"Tomorrow, you mean?" Guster asked just defiant enough that his mother wouldn't scold.

He looked up and their eyes met for the first time that Shawn could remember, curiosity present in his gaze. Burton's eyes were a lot like his mothers. They reflected kindness and honesty and, not that he'd ever tell him, a gentle soul. But, the most astonishing of all, they looked expectant and challenging. He felt as if, for once, someone expected him to finish something he'd started; not because he was supposed to or because his parents were making him… but because this kid, the overly tense Burton Guster, needed his help and was depending on him for assistance. And whether he liked it or not, he was not getting out of this partnership.

The sheer challenge made Shawn question whether he even wanted to try.

And what the hell, he'd felt less alone in Guster's silence than the cacophony of sound at his house. "Yeah, Guster. I'll be here tomorrow," he started towards the door before throwing over his shoulder, "for the brownies."


	2. The Gustasaurus Needs Two Parents

Two weeks of working together with Shawn Spencer and Burton was ready to strangle him. He'd begun planning the crime and just what he would say on the court stand. He'd assure the jury it wasn't just one of Shawn's annoying little traits, it was all of them. Sure, they'd begun their partnership in efficient silence. Burton would assign their tasks, Shawn would nod and roll his eyes before setting to work. They'd worked this way for a few days and Burton had even begun wondering if his classmates had been completely wrong about Shawn.

Shawn hadn't outwardly complained about having to work, he hadn't slacked off at all, he even chose to work when Burton had taken breaks to eat and do chores. He arrived at his house when he said he would, sometimes even an hour early. Ruby Trager tried to credit Shawn's parents for his promptness but Burton shut her down, having noticed that since that first day, Shawn always walked to his house. Even on the day it poured buckets and his mother worried aloud that 'that Spencer boy' would catch pneumonia in 'this hurricane rain'.

But that period had been too good to be true. Eventually, Shawn made it clear his docile, compliant, even pleasant behavior was all an act. A temporary state before he unleashed his true annoying tendencies that Burton swore came straight from Satan himself to ruin any chance he had at finishing his three week sentence with any semblance of sanity.

It wasn't that Shawn was constantly around to show him up in praising his mother's good cooking, or the way he managed to get tasks that took Burton two hours done in less than twenty minutes, or the way he knew how to create artistically impressive decals for the dinosaurs features that blew Burton's mind with viciously jade spikes of envy. It wasn't the way he babbled incessantly about the animal attack shows he stayed up past Burton's curfew to watch on television or the way he sung stupid and purposely incorrect lyrics to pop songs under his breath and Burton's skin. It wasn't even the immense irritation Burton felt after Shawn had decided calling him 'Guster' was getting tedious and shortened it to 'Gus'.

If Burton had to guess what the most annoying part of being Shawn Spencer's partner was, he'd guess it was the fact that he was starting to get used to it.

After the rain that day, his mother had begun to insist Burton brought Shawn home with him from school. He'd refused furiously and adamantly until his mother attacked his one weakness, claiming it would give them more time to work and they'd get a better grade. After that, he begrudgingly approached Shawn at lunch and withstood the confused glares his friends gave him. He'd taken a huge gulp of air and pawned the blame on his mother and Shawn's lost puppy features. "My mother thinks you should walk home with me," he begun, shifting from foot to foot and waiting for Shawn to look up from his sandwich. "So, I'll wait for you on the front steps after school." When Shawn didn't respond, he rolled his eyes and regretted ever agreeing to ask. It was a few moments before Shawn looked up, a strange look on his face. "Okay?"

Shawn had nodded and his eyes lowered to a hole in his jeans. "Yeah. Okay. I'll have to ask Henry." He started to ask Burton why but he was already halfway back to his usual table.

That day, at the risk of appearing too eager, Shawn forced himself to walk the straight edges of the tiled floor to the front door, taking an extra twenty minutes after school. It had the unfortunate side effect of pissing Gus off but succeeded in maintaining his role as an unwilling participant in Gus' grade. And when they'd finally reached the neat, two-story house four blocks from the school, Shawn was willing to bet Gus was already over it because he didn't even scowl when Shawn got the first cookie of the batch. He did laugh when Shawn burned his tongue, but so did Shawn.

At the two week mark, Shawn had been increasingly annoying. Burton figured something must've changed because Shawn babbled even more than usual. They'd developed a routine of eating Mrs. Guster's delicious snacks, hurrying upstairs to work on their project, Shawn had named it The Gustasaurus after 'Gus' evil alter-ego', where they would stay for four hours and Burton would consider dropping out before he lost his mind. Now, Shawn had taken to sitting at the kitchen island and helping Mrs. Guster with whatever she happened to be making. Burton didn't want to admit to ease dropping but he knew he worked twice as fast with Shawn's infuriating assistance than without it, so he'd sit on the bottom step of the stairway and listen to their conversations.

Sometimes, Shawn would ask how Mrs. Guster was doing, how Mr. Guster's practice was, what she was making for dinner. Mostly he would talk about his mom and something she'd done this week, or years ago. Burton's mother always sounded pleased and welcomed Shawn's company, encouraging him to go on when he spoke about his mother, teaching him baking tips and distracting him with tasks when his voice got smaller. Afterwards, she'd thank him for his help to an extent that made Burton feel guilty and a bit jealous. She was _his_ mom and Shawn was showing him up, again.

Once, Burton had felt so bothered, he asked his mother why Shawn couldn't just go home and speak to his own mother. To his surprise, she eyed with reproach before explaining, "Burton, have you ever considered the possibility that he can't?"

That confused him and sent a strange daunting feeling through the pit of his stomach. After all, he'd always been able to tell his parents everything. Even the stuff he'd want nobody else, least of all his friends at school, to know. "What do you mean, he can't?"

At this, the frown on his mother's face was replaced with a soft smile as she pulled him into a hug complicated by the inches he'd grown. "Baby, not everyone's parents are like yours. Keep that in mind." She pushed him towards the dining room to set the table for dinner. "And cut Shawn some slack. Be glad I've got someone to cook with, that's more time you have to yourself."

That night, after dinner and a small tantrum after Joy was forbidden to go to a New Kids on the Block concert, his parents had told Burton to invite Shawn and his father to dinner the next night and he didn't even question it.

* * *

Shawn failed to mention the dinner invitation to Henry until he was sure he had a shift lined up and wouldn't be able to make it. He knew his intentions were obvious but his father didn't look the least bit upset. If anything, he looked regretful. Like he'd noticed the amount of time Shawn had spending with the Gusters rather than at home, in their empty house, he didn't mention it. His mother had been back for a few days earlier in the week. She wanted it to seem as if she'd spent the night but, after she'd left and Henry spent nights awake writing reports, Shawn had taken to sleeping less at night and more at school. He'd been wide awake when she'd left the house, her dinner clothes evident in the porch light.

He wished he could feel hurt or even angry that they were lying to him, but he was too excited she'd been home period to feel anything other than that joy of feeling accomplished. Like he finally had something Gus had; he could have some part of normal and he could prove it. After spending so much time with Gus', he had to remember to keep calling him that as the glare on Burton's face had become a delight in his day, family and seeing what he could have. What he was supposed to have. And he couldn't keep stealing Gus' mother from him, even if Gus didn't seem to appreciate what he had.

He walked home with Gus that afternoon in his least holey jeans and a shirt with an actual, wrinkled nonetheless, collared shirt. Gus was quieter than usual, his step a few strides behind Shawn's and Shawn felt a small sliver of embarrassment. Maybe the dinner had just been Gus' parents' idea and he wasn't wanted. He'd thought maybe Gus and he had been on the track to becoming friends… or at least acquaintances, or maybe people that could stand being in a room for longer than an hour without throwing pineapples at each others' heads. Sure he acknowledged that he was a handful, not the easiest person to get to know. He had farfetched, and far-flung ideas that got him, and often unwilling participants, in trouble along with him when he put them in action. But he hadn't even been around Gus long enough to get him into trouble. He hadn't tainted him yet. Mrs. Guster could testify to that. And if his mother was still around, she's coming back, he reminded himself, she'd testify to it too.

Deciding to just get it over with, Shawn walked a few steps too close to the boy lost in his thoughts, playfully knocking into him. "What's up, Gus? Worried about the Gustasaurus being on his own for too long? We've raised him well and I'm sure he won't fall into a bad crowd and start doing drugs."

He was shocked when that got a small smile out of the usually tense kid. "No, I'm sure he's fine. I'm still not sure why he's a he." He tilted his head and bit the inside of his cheek before giving way to his curiosity. "I kinda wanted to ask you something."

Shawn grinned and bumped Gus to the side with his hip again. "Yes, Gus, I am an alien and, yes, I have come to earth to crawl inside of you and assume your role as a boring, straight-A student with no social life. I've been observing for quite some time now and I think I'll be good enough that your parents won't suspect a thing."

That one earned an actual, nervous, laugh; Gus' eyes bright and yet, still uneasily curious. "I knew it. Wait until I tell everyone I was right."

Shawn nodded thoughtfully, knowing Gus was trying to find a polite time to ask what must be either an uncomfortable or unpleasant request of him. Maybe he was going to use this dinner as a nice way of saying "Hey Shawn, it's been great but once this project is over, I'll be glad to never see you again" or "Is it okay to pretend you don't exist after next Thursday?" Either way, Gus was trying to be kind about it and of course he was; he was a Guster. They were all painfully kind, even in the face of someone like Shawn Spencer, son of Henry Spencer who sometimes ignored tact in favor of faster results.

"What's eating you, Gus?" Shawn crossed his arms and lowered his gaze.

It was a moment before he replied and they'd reached the Guster's neatly trimmed lawn when, instead of entering the front door, Gus chose to instead plop down on the front step. He glanced up with a nervous quirk of an eyebrow when Shawn stood before him, leaning against the railing. "Why don't you ever talk to me about stuff?"

Which threw Shawn for a pleasantly unexpected loop. "What?"

Gus squinted up at him, and clarified. "You spend a lot of time talking to my mom, like an hour a day but when we go up to my room, you never talk about anything."

"I talk a lot." He objected, shrugging.

Gus grinned. "Yeah, you do. But it's never about anything. I asked my mom once and she said it's because you don't have people to talk to." At that, Shawn looked stricken and embarrassed so Gus hurriedly went on. "And so I thought, you could talk to me, but you never do. Well, I mean you do, but it's never about anything."

Shawn was silent, for once, his head lowered and with a barely stifled growl he started off towards the end of the street without a word.

* * *

Shawn didn't come over the next few days. When Burton stood outside the first day, he waited for forty-five minutes before Kara Green told him Shawn had skipped the last period and walked home. He waited the next day for thirty before Seth Young told him Shawn had told him to tell "Gustasaurus" he wasn't feeling well. He didn't wait at all the next day. He'd later rationalize that he was just angry at Shawn for abandoning their project, but they'd been pretty much finished anyway. And at that point, Shawn had earned his name on the project even more than Burton had, in bigger font if he was honest.

If he was truly being honest, he was angry but with himself. What had he been thinking? Asking Shawn to talk to him, and about his feelings nonetheless? This wasn't Oprah, Shawn didn't need a shoulder to cry deeply into, and even if he did, what made Burton think he'd want it to be his shoulder? But even that thought irritated him; Shawn was willing to spend hours talking to Burton's mother, his _mother_ about actual things and then he reserved everything stupid and _trivial_, as Mr. Laday said, for Gus.

And maybe that was what really irked him. Listening in on the conversations Shawn had in his kitchen while his mother cooked delicious desserts and dinners, Burton knew Shawn had a lot to say. He spoke about the way he hated his father being gone all the time, but the revere in his tone belied the respect Shawn held for his father's work. The way he admired Mrs. Guster's culinary wizardry belied his nostalgia for his own mother's cooking. The way Shawn's voice would become wistful and small when he spoke about his mother at all, belied that she hadn't been around lately.

Burton was jealous and the realization hit him like a train. He was jealous of his mother. After all, Burton could spend three, sometimes four more hours alone with Shawn a day than her, but she got to know Shawn better than he ever would. How pathetic did that make him?

Apparently pathetic enough to lie to Ms. Hanley about a stomach ache days later and skip the rest of his last period. He'd heard from a reliable source, Ms. Elrick in the front office, Shawn had gym last period. He stealthily roamed the empty halls until he heard the familiar squeak of Shawn's holey Converse on the tiled floors. He pressed his body as hard as possible into the wall as Shawn rounded the corner. He waited until Shawn was sufficiently far enough down the hall to follow him as quietly as possible. And as he left the school grounds, before the bell, his conscience kept pointing out, he realized he'd never found out where Shawn lived. He assumed it wasn't far because he'd walked to and from his house with no trouble.

Burton had just been contemplating how stupid his plan had been when, fifteen minutes into it, Shawn rounded a street corner and promptly disappeared. He spun around abruptly and searched the quiet street for any sign of the shaggy mop of brown hair or bright blue striped shirt when a sharp weight shoved him roughly into a grassy lawn. Grass-stains were the least of his problems as Shawn angrily glared down at him.

"Hey, Shawn. How's it going?"He tried weakly through the lack of oxygen. He panted and thought about every fact he'd ever read about suffocation.

Shawn's brow furrowed and he reluctantly rolled off of the boy struggling for air. If there was anything Henry had taught him, it was how to tell when someone was following him. Still, it had just been Gus—Guster. He was harmless and looking at him now, slowly getting to his feet, he felt a little bad for overreacting. And he was a little surprised at the weightless feeling in the pit of his stomach stubbornly pulling a grin from the corners of his mouth.

"Stop following me." Starting down the sidewalk, he really wasn't the least surprised to hear the sound of Gus'— Guster's loafers in step with his sneakers. He let it go on until he was five minutes from his house, spotting Henry's patrol car in the driveway. "Go home, your mom's probably worried, Gus." It slipped out but it felt like it belonged in his mouth.

Normally a mention of his parents' shaky nerves was enough to send Burton on his way but this time, he stood his ground and he looked a bit ridiculous in grass stained khaki's with leaves in his collar. "No. I won't be ignored." And years later Gus will claim he hadn't heard that on one of Joy's cheesy teen dramas.

They stood a few feet apart, arms crossed and eyes locked in a test of wills until a minute twitch of Gus' brow and a tiny quirk in Shawn's lip led to a breakdown in unrestrained laughter. Shawn threw his head back and let out a bark so loud a little girl on her bike stopped to stare, making Gus' chuckles morph in to 'manly chuckles', as he would later call them, that sounded an awful lot like giggles. When they finally regained control and Gus had gotten over his unnatural fear of the germs and insects found in grass, they sat down together on Shawn's lawn.

They were quiet for a while before Shawn spoke. "I'm real sorry I left that day. Was your mom mad?"

Gus shook his head and scratched at the stubborn stain on his knee. "No, not at you anyway." He leaned his weight into Shawn's shoulder, knocking him off balance. "I suspect your alien powers have made her like you more than me."

Shawn grinned and peeked at Gus from underneath his eyelashes. "Yes! My plan is working." He waited a moment before pulling his knees up to his chest and dropping his chin on top of them. "Why did you follow me anyway?"

And Burton wanted to say that he missed Shawn, that he was angry at himself for being such a needy crybaby, that he felt like Shawn was the first real friend he'd had and he wasn't even sure that Shawn had been aware. Instead, he tried for a laugh "It's too much work without you. The Gustasaurus needs two parents."

Shawn lowered his eyes to his feet, his lashes fluttering for a moment before he nodded somberly, sniffing quietly. And Burton bit his lip at the sudden sight of tears trailing down Shawn's face. It was strange, but other than children, Burton had never seen anyone cry; let alone Shawn, the strongest person he knew next to Joy. He seemed so small, so unlike the boy that had tackled him to the ground moments ago.

Shawn wiped angrily at his face before turning to study the patrol car in the driveway. "Yeah, okay." He shook his head and wiped at his face again in determination before standing up, growing taller as he did, indestructible. "If the Gustasaurus needs two parents, then he's got 'em." He extended a hand to Burton and pulled him up. "Is that dinner invitation still open?"

Burton knew better than to say so without consulting his mother but he figured she made enough for leftovers anyway, and if he had to, he'd just eat less. "Of course, you have to meet the in-laws." Some part of his brain told him that statement sounded slightly strange but he ignored it.

And as they walked to Burton's house, he reasoned that he could let Shawn quote "The Goonies" for hours, steal all of his mother's time and call him Gus all he wanted if it meant never having to see tears on Shawn's face again.


	3. Cooties and Wet Dreams

Gus' first kiss wasn't at all what he thought it would be. He was the experimental one; 'the nerd' Shawn always said in affectionate, teasing tones. Shawn never wanted to be a part of his tests unless there was the possibility something might blow up. And after that one experiment with Pop Rocks and Coke that resulted in Gus' first black eye, his first time being grounded and many other firsts too painful to think about, he'd stopped letting Shawn's brand of science entice him.

So when he spent the night at the Spencer house for the fifteenth time in the gazillion times Shawn had stayed over at his house, Gus was pretty thrown for a loop when Shawn suggested it. "You want to do what?"

"I want to kiss you." He mumbled again, taking a drink from his root beer, having decided to boycott Coke for a while.

Gus was sure he was joking. He had to be. Why would he want to kiss Gus of all people? Sure Shawn wasn't exactly a social butterfly but loads of girls had crushes on him. Why didn't he want to kiss one of them? "Why?"

Shawn met his eyes with slight self-consciousness. "I never have before."

"Exactly, why start now?" And Gus wasn't quite sure why he sounded terrified but he could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he had a pretty clear idea why. He could blame it on nerves but if the way his palms got sweaty every time Shawn smiled at him with that mischievous look in his eyes, he was nervous for a different reason entirely. "I know three people that would totally kiss you." Well four if he was honest but he was allowed to lie once in a blue moon.

"Can we just do it?" Shawn snapped, sitting up in front of the television screen where the Mutant Ninja Turtles were doing something Gus was sure was awesome but he hadn't been paying that much attention. "Think of it as an experiment."

"To what purpose? What's the problem, the hypothesis?" He asked, getting to his knees, close enough to smell the sweet scent of Shawn's breath.

Shawn had to think about it before coming up with, "Well I've never kissed you before, that's the problem. I think that it would—_will_ be different from my mom's kisses." Not that he remembered; she hadn't really kissed him since he was about five.

It wasn't that logical, but then again Shawn's ideas rarely were. Gus would later blame adrenaline for propelling forward, hands on Shawn's thin shoulders and planting a dry, chaste kiss to Shawn's cheek. He knew that wasn't the way Joy did it when she was alone with a boy in her room. It wasn't even the way he'd seen her do it once with her best friend Renee. But it was enough to make his stomach do somersaults that left him feeling oddly energized and a little sick.

Shawn pulled back, cheeks flushed and small frown on his face. "That wasn't a real kiss." And Gus lowered his head in embarrassment because he'd never kissed anyone other than his mother and Joy when he was four and she was eight and still liked having him around.

"How would you know?" He shot back defensively.

"I just do." replied, pulling himself taller onto his knees. Reaching timidly out for Gus' face, his fingers tickled the skin behind his ears. Mimicking him, Gus did the same, eyes scanning Shawn's face unsure of the contemplative look on his face that he would years later identify as longing. Close enough to ghost his lips with his whisper, he explained. "This is a real kiss."

Barely there at first, he pressed his parted mouth against Gus' closed lips. Shawn paused, not daring to make a move until Gus slowly let his mouth fall open. Hands moist and dragging along the white cotton of Gus' shirt, Shawn pulled himself higher still, deepening the kiss with leverage. Turning his head the way they did in the movies, he tried it from different angles finding the perfect one to earn a muffled gasp from Gus. The first slide of Shawn's tongue was odd, Gus thought. Not unpleasant, just different and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. Root beer tasted like an entirely new flavor, sickly sweet and just a bit dizzying. It left Gus wondering how many flavors tasted differently on Shawn's sly tongue, if he'd ever get to find out.

They separated for air, panting slightly eyes on the floor until Shawn risked a glance. Ignoring the pleased tug in his stomach at the sight of Gus' lips swollen and red, saying _I did that_. "Was that totally weird?"

Shaking his head adamantly, Gus licked his lips, and Shawn's eyes widened. "No. Not really." Shawn nodded and lay down on the rug again, head swimming when Gus followed suit. His skin tingled, hair rising in the space between them. He felt hyperaware, extremely sensitive to the fact that Gus was lying beside him, not inches away but suddenly too far. Taking in a deep breath as Gus exhaled, he tried to ignore the itching feeling but the blood was rushing through his body. He turned his head to the floor, eying Gus with curiosity and as usual, Gus knew exactly what he meant.

"You wanna do it again, don't you?"

"Yeah." He breathed, tongue caught in his teeth. So they did.

It would be years before Shawn tells Gus about Gretchen Monaco cornering him after second period one day and shoving her tongue down his throat. Gus asked him why he'd wanted to do the experiment if he already had the 'conclusion'. Shawn was unable to come up with an excuse other than the simple fact that he just wanted to.

* * *

Their routine transitioned into high school and he'd become so used to the routine, so used to dinners with the Gusters every few days that the one day Gus wasn't waiting for him after school, he'd been utterly distraught. He sank down onto the top step for what felt like hours before Kara Green walked by and called over his shoulder, "Gus went home after third period with a fever." Part of him was proud that his nickname had fully caught on and the second part was strangely self-satisfied. Gus unwittingly painted a picture of indestructibility. He was never late, never without an answer or explanation and he'd certainly never been sick.

Shawn began the walk home with a self-satisfied grin on his face before he remembered that two weeks ago he'd stayed home with the flu and in his annoyed boredom, he'd called Gus and begged him to come over after school. He played on Gus' weakness and claimed he needed to know what school work he missed, knowing full and well whatever it was, he'd be able to finish it the day it was due.

Gus had compliantly let himself in quietly downstairs and appeared at his doorway with a stack of notebooks. Seeing Shawn in bed and underneath the covers, something he never saw, even when they had impromptu sleepovers, Gus covered his mouth with the collar of his shirt and asked, voice laden with trepidation, "Are you sick?"

Shawn had thrown his arms out exasperatedly and replied sarcastically, "No Gus, I've just decided today would be a good day to freshen up my skills at blowing snot out of my nose, reaching high temperatures and talents for watching quality bad daytime talk shows. Of course I'm sick. Didn't you notice I wasn't at school today?"

"Of course, but I just figured you'd decided to skip." Gus threw out and took a step further back. "We 'ad ma' 'est 'oday."

"What? I can't hear you?" Shawn said, a wicked smile on his face. "Gus, let go of your shirt. Breathe in the evil, sickening germs of Feverland. Come on, get sick and stay home with me tomorrow. Henry will be gone and your mom will bring us soup and warm, comfy blankets."

Gus rolled his eyes and ignored Shawn's enticements. He dropped the collar of his shirt but covered his mouth with his hand. "We had a math test today."

"So, every other answer is C. That's how Ms. Hanley operates." Shawn settled further into his pillows and crossed his arms behind his head. "Gus, come, come sit with me."

Gus glared defiantly and started to back out of the room. "And get pneumonia, I don't think so." His creaking steps were heard and Shawn closed his eyes as he noticed the silence in the house felt more overwhelming than before, just as it always did when Gus left Shawn alone. But as he'd begun fully drifting away, he heard the familiar intones of Mrs. Guster and Gus in the kitchen below and the smell of hot chicken noodle soup lulled him to sleep.

Now, two weeks later, Gus, Mr. Never-Missed-a-Day-of-School-in-His-Life was home sick because of Shawn's selfishness. Oh yeah, he was rubbing off on Gus and it'd made him sick, literally. Frowning, Shawn turned around and started towards the Guster's house. He knew full and well that if he'd gotten Gus sick, Gus would most likely make the rest of the house sick. He'd infected the family he'd become so dependent on, he was just that contagious.

When he reached the house, he knocked as gently as possible on the kitchen window, at the risk Gus was sleeping upstairs. Mrs. Guster appeared at the door, appearing as well as ever, if a little annoyed. Seeing it was Shawn, her face brightened a fraction and she let him in. "Hello, Shawn. Are you here to see Burton? He's come down with the flu and a nasty attitude too."

Shawn cocked an eyebrow, tense, panicky, anxious and painstakingly precise, yes, but Gus was always as polite as possible. In fact, it'd taken weeks of being around Shawn for Gus to finally start arguing against over the little annoying things Shawn made him do. "Uh, yeah. I heard he went home sick and I came to check on him. You know, like he did when I was sick before."

She nodded and returned to the stove, pouring soup into a bowl on a tray with a couple of crackers and a spoon. "That's terribly sweet of you, I'm afraid he's a bit of a brat when he's sick." She started towards the stairs but Shawn blocked her way and gently took the tray from her hands.

"I'll take it up. You'll get sick and plus, I've got to fill him in on what happened after Ricky Lister fell down the stairs this morning." He smirked brilliantly and carried the tray carefully up the stairway to Gus' room and stopped outside the door at a strange sound.

A few more moments and Shawn realized with a stuttering laugh that Gus was singing. By the sound of it, painfully off-key Michael Jackson with some misguided Madonna thrown in. Deciding it was adorable and enough ammo for the next time Shawn was caught in an awkward predicament, he opened the door with his foot and set the tray on the end of Gus' nightstand. Gus was sweaty and bundled in a mountain of blankets so thick he was only visible up to his shoulders. Picking up the thermometer, Shawn gently forced Gus' head back and coaxed the plastic stick into his mouth and under his tongue. He sat on the edge of Gus' mattress waiting for the reading and frowned at what he saw.

Gus had stopped singing, instead he was watching Shawn with a curious, disbelieving look on his face. Shawn pet him on the shoulder before helping him to sit up. Gus struggled to take a few deep breaths before a coughing fit started. "Okay Gus, let's get you up and full of soupy, chicken-filled goodness. I got you sick so I'll get you better. Maybe after you're done I'll run down and get you an ice-pack and some aspirin? Break that fever? Sound good?" When Gus didn't respond, Shawn mentally kicked himself. He was talking at Gus, the way his mother had when he'd been sick as a boy.

He stayed until Gus finished most of soup and promptly passed out, his hands clammy and heated to the touch. Shawn sighed and brought the tray down to the kitchen, along with the thermometer reflecting Gus' fever. He showed it to Mrs. Guster, nerves increasing at the frown on her face.

"Is it worse?" He asked, watching as she retrieved the phone and dialed a well memorized number before responding.

"A few degrees higher than this morning. Was he having trouble breathing?" She asked, before answering the other line on the phone. "Yes, my son, Burton Guster has the flu and it's getting worse." Shawn's heart started to pound a bit faster as Mrs. Guster gave him a reassuring glance before handing him a bottle of medicine and shooing him up the stairs.

He entered Gus' room for the second time and instead of feeling at home amongst the posters of geniuses like Albert Einstein and Paula Abdul, he felt unwelcome, like a pathogen to Gus' sanctuary. It was his fault Gus was tossing and turning, shivering and sweating in his bed. He looked frail, so helpless and it was all Shawn's fault. If he hadn't of been so fucking selfish… he stood there for a moment, guilt shaking the core of his bones before he forced himself forward. Mrs. Guster had given him a task and he was going to do it.

He kneeled by Gus' bed and felt his forehead, having felt his mother do this many times before, noting how warm Gus was. Shawn's throat locked with apology at the way Gus pressed his forehead into Shawn's palm. He had to try a few times before his voice worked again. "Gus, Gus, man, wake up for me. I have to give you medicine." Gus turned his head away from Shawn's voice and pushed at him blindly, making Shawn feel worse than he would have if Gus had actually punched in the face. "Come on, man. Yummy, yummy… disgusting purple goo. It'll make you feel better." He laid his palm along the stretch of Gus' neck, trying to force him to turn his head.

Gus was murmuring a steady stream of incoherencies Shawn had to strain to hear. "No, no, no, don't want it. Makes me sick."

Shawn gave a small smile. "No, babe, I made you sick. Shawn made you sick." He whispered into Gus' exposed ear.

At that Gus opened his eyes and looked, out of focus, in Shawn's general direction. "He did. He gave me cooties." And worried sick or not, Shawn would remember this for years to come.

"Yeah." Shawn chuckled, absently stroking the side of Gus' neck. "You never got your cootie shot. Betcha regret that now, buddy."

The sick teenager gave a small shiver and closed his eyes again, leaning into Shawn's hand. "Yeah, I do."

Shawn picked up the bottle of cough medicine and leaned forward to Gus' ear again. "But I can give you some medicine now that will help. You'll be better in no time. Kissing lots and lots of girls." He poured some of the sticky substance onto the spoon and held it steadily, knowing if he dropped even a bit of it, Gus would make him lick it up.

Gus shook his head, muttering between short gasps of breath, "No, no girls. Cooties." Shawn took advantage and lowered Gus' jaw with his thumb and, as gently as possible, forced the medicine in. He ran his fingers down the column of Gus' feverish neck as he swallowed the foul tasting liquid.

"There we go." He set the spoon and medicine back on the nightstand and sat back on his heels, still running a comforting hand along Gus' neck.

They remained in silence except for the occasional gasp for air and coughing fit until Gus opened one eye and said, "Talk." He coughed, roughly and hoarse enough Shawn debated forcing more medicine down his throat because it wasn't working fast enough for his comfort. When it was over, Shawn was surprised to realize the lump in his throat had arisen from alarm. Gus clenched his eyes shut, his muscles tensing before he continued after what felt like an hour. "Talk to me."

Shawn felt utterly useless. Like he always felt when something had been asked of him and it didn't feel like enough in exchange for what he'd been given. When Mrs. Guster asked him to help with a chore in exchange for having a mother when his own wasn't around. When Joy asked him to give her an honest opinion on an outfit in exchange for getting to feel what it was like to have a big sister. When Mr. Guster asked him to watch a ball game with him in exchange for learning what it was like to have a fatherly experience that didn't involve hunting rifles or lessons on how to escape from a car trunk.

"Talk, about what, Gus? About anything?" That seemed to set off another coughing spell that left Gus breathless and Shawn speechless for what felt like the second time in his life. He reached his other hand up to cradle Gus' head through the worst of it, butterflies at the way Gus welcomed his touch.

"An'thin'." He clarified before settling back into the comfort of his pillows and Shawn's warm hands on the sides of his face, now. "Please."

Shawn didn't miss a beat before letting his mouth take over because for once Gus had asked him to. It was the least he could give in exchange for… giving Shawn everything he'd gotten used to living without. "My mom used to tuck me in at night, before it got like it was. She'd call me her 'Little Man' and sometimes when I had to do something important, like help with the 'big kid' chores, she'd call me her 'Little Man' and it made me feel important. Henry used to take me fishing before I was old enough to realize it was just a whole lot of sitting in still water waiting for nothing. I miss it sometimes but I think we've gotten past the point of being able to sit around without fighting. I never told you this, but I used to have a big brother. His name was Shane but he died in his sleep and I never knew why. My parents started fighting after that. I miss my mom still. She's at home now but I still feel all alone. I'm pretty sure Jason Cunnigham wanted to ask you out at camp last year, how weird is that? Unless you don't think it is, it's just, Gus, we're freshman and we can't be that weird yet…"

He spoke for hours about nothing and about everything. He told Gus secrets he'd kept locked down out of fear of giving Gus ammunition to embarrass him, or worse, leave and never come back. He talked until his voice and the calm stroking of Gus' clammy skin lulled them both to sleep.

He woke hours later in the dark of the night having crawled into bed beside Gus and on top of the covers, his forearm cramped from resting protectively over Gus' chest and his heart. He was too tired to move but awake enough to see Mrs. Guster attempting to quietly leave the room. "Mrs. G?" he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"Shh, go back to sleep. I spoke to your father and he says it's okay for you to stay over." She crouched down next to the bed.

"Is Gus going to die?" He whispered, voice sounding too loud in the quiet still of the room.

Mrs. Guster shook her head and pet his hand gently. "He has the flu, like you did, and I suspect you gave it to him." At the abashed look on Shawn's face, she made light of it. "He'll be fine, Shawn. It'll just take him a little longer to get better because of his asthma."

She gave him one last reassuring smile before turning to leave the room. And Shawn knew what he'd been given hadn't deserved. He settled down next to Gus, snuggled by his side and snoring softly, interrupted occasionally by stuttered breaths and coughs. He fell asleep with Gus' hand in his and knew he'd find a way to earn this for real.

* * *

Gus met Michael Clary on a Tuesday after Mr. Paulette's French class. It was quite cliché, to say the least, in the fact that they met in the cheesiest manner possible. Shawn had bullied Gus into joining his new 'gardening service', guaranteed to earn them tons of cash because Gus was cute and friendly and Shawn was an entrepreneur in the making. That day, Shawn had pushed and prodded Gus to the doorway as class ended and inevitably shoved Gus into a broad chest, knocking the millions of tomes in his hands to the floor.

Gus sighed and knelt to the floor to pick them up, apologizing all the way down. "I'm so sorry." He repeated, watching as the stranger he'd slammed into knelt down to help.

Green eyes beamed brightly at him as he smiled and helped Gus collect his books. "It's fine. Really. Mr. Paulette causes involuntary violence in the nicest of people. I'm Michael." But Shawn already knew that.

"Gus." He supplied, ignoring Shawn's scoff in his ear.

Michael held out the rest of Gus' things, pausing when his hands found the Advanced Chemistry textbook. "What grade are you in?"

Demurely, Gus scratched at his neck, starting to say "11th", when Shawn coughed sarcastically and he told the truth. "1oth. Why?"

Smirking, Michael explained, "Because it looks like we suffer two classes together. You must either be a genius or extremely self-loathing. No one willingly puts themselves through that kind of torture."

"Except you. And me, apparently." Gus shot back slyly, and Shawn suddenly didn't like where this seemed to be going. Tugging on the back of Gus' shirt, he interrupted rather rudely, the way he did when he was in a hurry and Gus was wasting his time with pleasantries of scolding Shawn on his lack of them.

"Gus, come on. We have an engagement with grass and cash." He started pushing at Gus' back but for once, the shorter boy wouldn't budge. "Gus?"

Michael was eying Gus with an expression that would've been outlawed in the state of California if Shawn had his way. Everything about his eyes said he liked what he saw and wanted more of it. It was the first time Gus had ever been noticed in front of Shawn since they'd been forced into parenting. It was also the first time Shawn was struck with an innate surge of possessiveness over Gus.

He decided that he didn't like Michael within the two seconds he'd ruined his exit. He decided that he hated Michael in the two minutes it took him to eye Gus up and down and flirt shamelessly. He didn't know that Gus was naive and blind as a bat when it came to attraction, especially attraction aimed at him. Shawn was pissed.

The warning bell rang but for once, Gus didn't move. Michael glanced at the quickly filling classroom before turning back to Gus, a shy look on his face. "Can I get your number? You know, if I ever need someone to keep me sane during my torturous Chem homework?"

Shawn rolled his eyes, knowing there was no way Gus wouldn't see right through that. "Of course." Ripping out a sheet of notebook paper, Gus scrawled his number across the top, followed by his name, in painstakingly neat handwriting that put Shawn right back in the body of that lonely 12 year old sitting at the back of the classroom.

Shawn didn't notice how closely he was pressed against Gus' back, hands on his sides until he was jabbed pretty roughly in the stomach by Gus' elbow as he reached across to hand Michael the sheet. Michael shot an amused glance at Shawn, plastered against Gus' back before adding, "I'll definitely give you a call, Gus. See you around?"

Gus nodded adamantly, jostling Shawn's grip a bit. "Yeah. See you around." In something like 90210, the girl with starry-eyes would turn around, jaw dropped in excitement before squealing with excitement. Or maybe she would drop back against the nearest wall and sigh with disbelief at her luck. Shawn would have preferred either of those to Gus' clammy hands gently pulling Shawn's hands from around his waist where they had been slowly, steadfastly pulling Gus against his front and away from Michael.

"Shawn, what's going on? If you're attempting the Heimlich Maneuver, you're doing it completely wrong, your hands are way too low." He added, like nothing had changed, like he hadn't just practically dry-humped that smug bastard right in front of him. Shawn shoved past him, ignoring the flush of warmth against his side, towards the front of the school, his ears listening to the sounds of Gus hurrying after him.

Gus met Michael Clary on a Tuesday after Mr. Paulette's French class on the same day Shawn met the only person to steal Gus' attention away from him. And Shawn didn't like him one bit.

* * *

At fourteen, Shawn supposed it was normal to dream about your best friend. At fifteen, he figured it was even normal to have wet dreams at sleepovers with your best friend… and oh so freakin' unfortunate. At sixteen, he noticed it wasn't that normal to have wet dreams at sleepovers with your best friend about your best friend. But when had Shawn ever been normal?

He told himself it wasn't really about Gus, that he was interpreting it wrong. He tried to stop; always managing to either picture whatever girl that had looked at him twice that week or just resist the urge to jack off period. It only got worse; he'd lost any sense of control over his lower half.

Once, Gus set him off without realizing it. He slept over at Shawn's house when Henry was on patrol and decided to make brownies. Shawn was ambling around the kitchen searching for the ingredients Gus yelled over his shoulder from where he was reading the recipe.

"You know, I can read just as good as you can. I could be reading the recipe and you could be running around the kitchen like I am." He barked, standing on the tops of his toed to reach the flour in the top cabinet. He held back a sneeze from the dust that fell.

"Yeah, if you call that running, I'd hate to see what you'd do if there was a real emergency." Gus shot back, sending the familiar sting of pride through Shawn's body. It'd taken a while but Gus was finally getting used to the fact that he was allowed to be rude and sarcastic to a friend. Meanwhile, Shawn was still learning that he was allowed to get attached to someone again, that they wouldn't disappear the second he'd really started to care. "Will you just get over here so I can start?"

"Just get over here." He mimicked, but he marched over obediently with the flour and watched as Gus poured the right amount into a measuring cup. He handed it absently to Shawn and within seconds, Shawn sneezed, spraying flour everywhere, all over Gus' blue button-down.

Gus paused, eyes clenched, flour whitening his long eyelashes and Shawn started laughing. He hadn't gotten off completely clean, flour lining the bottom of his pant legs and t-shirt. "Sorry." He stated, sarcasm bleeding through. Gus opened his eyes, a wicked tint to them and a smirk on his face.

Their flour fight was inevitable and the worst kind of messy. They'd raced and fought their way to the bathroom and Gus forced him in the standing shower and turned the faucet on. He was too slow to close the door and lock Shawn in before he was yanked in by his powder covered shirt. Gus glared at him through wet eye lashes as he was drenched in cold water in minutes. They slipped and slid for a minute embellished by echoing laughter.

"Shawn! You're a jerk!" He said, trying to escape but Shawn trapped him in a half-assed embrace that allowed Gus enough freedom to slither around the enclosed space, wet fabric adding weight. The damp hair plastering Shawn's bangs to his forehead made it a little hard to make out where he ended and Gus began. But then again, it had always been that way.

"But you love me." Shawn retorted, pulling Gus harder against him trying to get him wetter still. Gus gave a low growl from the pit of stomach and threw his weight into Shawn.

They slammed pretty hard into the tiled wall behind Shawn's back but the small knot on the back of his head did nothing to stop Shawn from involuntarily thrusting into the sweet friction of Gus' hips against his. Shawn had clenched his eyes shut, trying to stifle a ragged moan. But Gus wasn't done, he pushed again trying to break Shawn's grasp and only achieving in reacquainting Shawn with the fact that Gus was here, hot and drenched against his body. And when Gus tried again, Shawn barely managed to shove him back in time before he slammed his head into the wall and came with a strangled groan, lip caught in his teeth painfully.

And then Shawn had thanked God for Gus' naiveté. "Shawn, are you okay? I didn't know I pushed that hard. I'm sorry." The genuine concern in his eyes forced a laugh out of Shawn's mouth.

"I'm okay, Gus." He panted. He wasn't really, he was wet and sticky and he'd cracked his head pretty hard. He knew if he went to sleep that night so close to Gus' warm body, he'd lose it all over again. Somehow he convinced Gus to let him take the first shower and he spent the time jerking off until the water went cold and he'd come about three more times.

So after that embarrassment, Shawn rationalized that there was no harm in giving in at home in his bed. When Gus wasn't there.


	4. Homelessness and Michael Clary

Shawn had been right about Michael Clary, despite Gus' previous misconceptions. That didn't stop the extreme awkwardness of the realization weeks later, stretched out on his stomach in Shawn's bedroom recounting his situation.

"He just asked if I wanted to go to a movie with him, I said 'yes'. How is that a date?" Gus argued, shoving M & M's in his mouth.

Shawn rolled his eyes at Gus' innocence and the stupid jealously clawing at the back of his throat. He'd claimed the credit as the only person, aside from the Gusters to see Gus' hidden worth and he didn't like the idea of his title being disputed. Who did Michael Clary think he was?

"Gus, it's a date because he asked for your address and gave you a time. At which he will arrive at your door, throw you over his shoulder Cave-man style and take you back to the backseat of his Beemer to sully your lily-white virginity to the sultry sounds of that one song by the Cure." He rolled over and reached for the Coke stained Webster's dictionary under his bed. He cracked it at the middle and mock read, "See, date. Says so, right here."

Gus threw a candy in Shawn's direction and gave a fake sound of discontent when he caught it in his mouth. "Okay, so what do I do?" he asked after a beat and vulnerable.

"Well it's a free movie with the possibility of getting off with someone other than Lefty; I say go for it Gus." Shawn said matter-of-factly, looking anywhere but at the unblemished trust in Gus' eyes.

He couldn't ignore the pure light in Gus' eyes when he spoke to Michael after French about the new artsy-fartsy film Shawn had heard Gus rave about for the past month. He'd planned to complain and shut Gus down a couple of times before eventually giving in and surprising him with two tickets a few weeks later. But Michael had beaten him to the punch and that expression of non-manipulated joy on Gus' face belonged to Michael now. And whose fault was that?

He knew just what it would take, what he could say to get Gus to go home and call Michael right now, faking a sore throat and cough. He knew just what to say to make Gus never go near Michael again, even just to borrow a pencil or a sheet of paper. And Gus would be none the wiser, because somewhere along their lop-sided, uneven friendship, Gus had grown to trust Shawn more than he trusted himself. Shawn maintained that he hadn't begun to abuse that until sophomore year. That was the year his mother stayed away for six months straight and Shawn realized he'd have to stop needing her quite so much. That was the year Mrs. Guster had slowly begun answering her door with disapproval instead of warm, welcoming smiles. After all, that was the year Shawn got Gus drunk for the first time and helped him stagger all the way home before he hurled in the garden.

Shawn had learned that year that nothing was infallible.

He knew just what to say to shut Gus back into his little orbit for a little longer, but he wouldn't. He'd let Gus take a chance on his own. "Go for it, buddy. Let me know how it goes." And as Gus got up to go home and get ready, Shawn added for clarity. "The movie, not the fucking."

And he could pretend he was proud when Gus flipped him the bird instead of nostalgic for times when a gesture like that from Shawn earned him a scold and the silent treatment for the next five minutes.

That night cracked the protective shell of Shawn's denial. He spent the night fucking his fist until he got blisters and fell asleep, the taste of root beer and Gus' name tattooed on his tongue like a fresh brand just beginning to ache.

* * *

Michael was everything Gus never thought he could have. He was tall, muscular and his eyes were the most terrifying shade of green that Gus had ever seen. He wore jeans and button-down shirts and never appeared frazzled or stressed, despite his heavy workload. He was just as smart, if not smarter than Gus. His hands, Gus' favorite part of him, were large, warm, and inviting. Earlier that morning while he had been alone in his bed contemplating whether or not to tell Shawn, Gus had established just what made Michael so great. He was different from Shawn in just about every way.

When Gus told him one of those weird, far from useful factoids he'd learned in one of the many documentaries he watched, Michael didn't call him a dork for knowing them. If Gus asked him for help carrying all of the many books he owned, Michael didn't refuse and laugh from the sidelines. And when Gus told him that he liked him, he just smiled and said, "I like you too, Gus." He didn't shove him playfully into a wall and tell him, "Of course you do, I'm adorable," like Shawn did.

After they'd met, Gus had taken to hanging out with Michael before and after school when Shawn wasn't on his tail planning aloud all of the great money-making ideas he'd come up with at the top of his head. It felt dangerous keeping a secret from Shawn; like he never had before. Sometimes he even felt guilty for it. But then he would remember that it wasn't as if he was sneaking off in the middle of the night to set fireworks off in the abandoned field behind Santa Barbara High School with Michael. Or planting ladders in Gus' backyard or metal lunchboxes with house keys in Shawn's backyard in case of an emergency with Michael. And he certainly didn't spend weekends doing nothing other than sitting around watching Lost Boys in his underwear with Michael. Just the thought gave an odd chill down Gus' spine, along with a flush of heat.

That night, Gus had opened the door and greeted Michael with a nervous smile. Having been unsure of what to wear, he'd picked out the most casual outfit he owned: a pair of jeans Shawn had bought for him with the money from their short-lived lawn-moving business, a polo shirt and pristine tennis shoes.

The first sign that Shawn might've been right about this being a date came when instead of shoving Gus out of the house and down the driveway like Shawn would've done, Michael grasped his clammy palm and walked beside him to his car. The second sign came halfway through the French film when Michael leaned across the seat, hands placed gently on Gus' neck as their lips met at a pace so slow it made Gus tense with anticipation. The tiny, film star was in the middle of a heartfelt monologue but Gus didn't hear a thing.

* * *

It had been a week since Shawn and Gus' conversation and Gus was still acting weird. Whenever Shawn brought it up, he'd clam up and change the subject and if they passed Michael in the hallway, Gus would tense and lower his gaze to the tiled floor. It was nerve-wracking to say the least and if Shawn didn't get answers soon, he was going to do something drastic.

He pestered Gus whenever they were alone, throwing questions at him like bullets until Gus either snapped or left his own bedroom. "Come on, you gotta give me something. Did he make a move, did you puke from the nerves? Did you pussy out at the last minute and not go after all?" When that earned nothing, he pushed further. "Did your parents catch you in the back seat of his car? Cause that's always a boner-killer."

Gus bit the inside of his cheek and decided it was safe to say, "Nothing happened. I'm fine."

This only served the purpose of causing Shawn to thoroughly assure himself that something had indeed happened and Gus was not fine. After all, he'd been saying he was 'fine' over the years whenever he was in fact _not_ fine. This onslaught caused Shawn to start the first fight of their junior year, with a senior, causing instant fame, for a while at least.

To his credit, it was not a 'knock out drag out' with one of the only openly gay kids at Santa Barbara High and it certainly wasn't because Michael was gay. He'd just watched the awkward exchange between Gus and Michael one too many times. He'd cornered Michael in the hall after fourth period and a badly timed shove threw Shawn into Michael, throwing Michael into a locker causing a loud slam and grabbing the attention of everyone around.

Gus, a few feet away looked stricken, embarrassed and… when Shawn looked closer, fearful. Shawn leaned in as close as possible so he could speak without the threat of being overheard above the chatter of the hallway. "What did you do to Gus?"

Michael tilted his chin up in defiance, serving only to make Shawn yank it down. "Ow, shit. What's your problem, Spencer?" He tried to jerk his head to the side before Shawn gripped his chin roughly and pulled it forward.

Shawn stared deep into the green eyes Gus had probably fallen for because he was a sucker for a pair of nice eyes. He'd never been able to see what Shawn saw in his best friend's eyes, the honesty, the loyalty, and the innocence that he hadn't properly protected. And that was his fault, but he could right some of that now.

"Ow, let me go!"

"What the _fuck_ did you do?" Shawn growled, low and deep from the deep pit of his stomach. A lull fell over the crowd and he knew Gus would be angry with him for at least a week now.

Some part of him was too pissed off to care. He already felt like he knew; he knew what the fucker had done. He'd probably taken Gus to a movie, listened to him talk excitedly until the movie started then let him ramble on and on about how awesome or how contrived it was afterwards. Then he'd taken Gus back to his car and he'd probably tried to make a move. And when Gus had stopped him after a few minutes of giving in, he'd probably called him a baby or a prude and driven him home knowing Gus would feel guilty. Then, like the pathetic asshole he was, he'd dropped Gus off before going home to sulk and jack off.

Michael matched his glare with one of his own, sneering, "I didn't do a thing. I took him out, we had a nice time. I drove us to a beach and we started making out. Things got a little heated and I stuck my hand down his pants," His voice stuttered and stopped, confused Shawn leaned back to realized his forearm was steadily crushing Michael's windpipe. He reluctantly eased up a bit and watched as Michael coughed a bit before continuing. "He seemed pretty into it until he said he had to go. He mumbled something about 'Shawn being right'and then said he wanted to go home."

Shawn took a step back, again realizing his knee had been locked on Michael's groin. He shook his head before seeking Gus. He turned a few corners before entering the boys' bathroom. The last stall from the wall, the one they'd spent an hour one skipped gym period covering in inspirational quotes for the hell of it. Shawn knew before he pushed that the door was unlatched. Gus was sitting on top of the seat, head in his hands.

He entered and leaned against the right wall. "You know, if you keep this up, you may develop a nasty problem with voyeurs. I can't be your hero forever, Gus." Gus didn't look up. "Talk to me."

Gus stood and leaned against the opposite wall, his head lowered. "I don't want to."

Shawn tilted his head, trying to catch Gus' eye line. "Come on, please? For me?"

Gus shook his head shoving Shawn back into the wall. He slammed rather roughly into the metal wall, blaming Gus' mood for the force but knowing he'd meant it to hurt. After a beat, a muttered "Sorry".

And Shawn laughed because even now, after so many years, Gus would never be anything other than polite. Which is why Michael's story had rung true. He hadn't meant to, but he'd ruined Gus' first sexual experience. Fuck it, he'd meant to, he'd even wanted to. Gus had no business being in Michael Clary's car when he should've been at Shawn's house watching shitty Saturday night cable movies downstairs in their boxers.

That's what he should've been doing but Shawn didn't want to say it out loud. Not when Gus was feeling… feeling what exactly? Ashamed, angry, hurt, all of the above?

"Gus, talk to me. What's wrong?" Shawn tried again, the pure confusion in his voice lifted Gus' head for the first time since he'd locked them in the stall together. And when he did, Shawn instantly wished he hadn't.

Those eyes, the ones that attracted Shawn to Gus in the first place were now dark and unrecognizable. Where the core had once held such light, such bright and unwavering faith in security, it was now dim and fading fast. The screen of innocence and blissful unawareness had broken and Shawn's breath caught with regret. Gus was truly hurt for the first time that Shawn had ever seen, and he'd put that look on Gus' face. He'd put that hurt in Gus' life. His knees felt weak as he was overcome with the unshakeable need to be away, this was suffocating.

"You make jokes out of everything- out of_ everything_ I do." Gus spat.

"Gus." He forced out before Gus gratefully lowered his head again.

"I liked it, Shawn. A lot. It was different. It felt like his hands, Michael's hands, were everywhere. I wanted it so much, it actually _hurt_." He paused, hands tight around his knees. "But then that, that _song _came on and it started to feel wrong; like you were _right there_, right there _watching_ and that made it wrong." A sniffing sound and Gus wiped stubbornly at his eyes. Shawn sank to the floor, ignoring Gus' know-it-all voice in the back of his head telling him about all the germs on bathroom floors. Gus sniffed a few more times, trying to hide his obvious tears until they were coming too fast for even Shawn to pretend not to see. For Shawn to be able ignore the beautifully horrid fact that some part of his best friend was breaking.

He stood to unsteady feet, unsure of what to do. He'd apologize but it just wouldn't be enough. He didn't know what to do. He eventually stumbled forward, reaching out blindly for Gus as the stall door was unlatched and Shawn was left alone.

* * *

A week after "that Spencer kid fought Clary the Fairy", Shawn was sneaking into Gus' window. They had a system, if Shawn wanted to come over because Henry had the night shift, his parents were fighting or he just didn't want to be alone, he'd walk over, climb the ladder hidden in the garden and knock on Gus' window. Shawn ignored it completely, choosing to instead just open the window and climb right in.

Throwing his jacket off and his shoes randomly on the floor, Shawn undressed bit by bit before climbing into Gus' bed. Gus woke up just as Shawn was falling asleep. Too tired to push him away entirely, Gus just groaned in annoyance, making Shawn's stomach flutter, from guilt he was sure. "Go 'way. Still mad."

Shawn tried in vain to wrap his arms around Gus' sluggish form. "Don't care. You're my best friend and I'm going to fix this. Whatever it takes." He buried his face in Gus' chest stubbornly. "I'll even fix things with Michael if I have to."

Gus tried to pull away again, kicking at Shawn meagerly. "Get offa me. Tell my mom." He threatened, a smile tugging at his lips when Shawn buried a laugh into his comforter. It was too familiar, too like them to be annoying each other in the dead of night.

"Big fat baby, Guster. Go ahead, tell your mom and I'll tell her who really broke Joy's tennis trophy." He teased, pleased when Gus relaxed into his grip. His heart unclenched as the tension in Gus' muscles gave way.

"Go 'head. Wasn't my fault anyway. You made me." Gus rolled over into Shawn and laid his head back onto his pillows, relishing in the familiar smell of the garden and that stupid aftershave Shawn had stolen from Henry's cabinet. He was just falling into a calm slumber when his brain cataloged what made the smell so comforting. Shawn smelled like home; his scent made up of a part of his house, the garden, and a part of Shawn, _was_ home and the revelation overwhelmed his senses and a fraction of the security that held Gus afloat returned.

Shawn stroked the side of Gus's neck, listening to the sounds of Gus' breath slowing into sleep. This was getting a bit ridiculous. He'd come over under the guise of fixing the rift between them when in actuality, he'd been fed up with trying and failing to fall asleep on his own for the past week. With Henry actually volunteering for overtime, rather than be at home with his son and his mother spending time with him whenever Henry was sure to be working, he felt more alone than ever. He hadn't realized how much his refuge depended on Gus. Not just the availability of the Guster house but Gus, period.

He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that as long as he had Gus' faith, Gus' trust, someone to fight for… he could never be truly alone.

* * *

Gus was babbling on about something Shawn had no interest in, but he was listening anyway because when Gus spoke, he listened. And he was tracing shapes sweetly on Shawn's forearm, light enough not to hurt but hard enough to feel. And he was remembering what his mother told him about the truth in the little details in the little moments of his life. And he remembered because she'd felt so far away like it hurt to touch him. The memory was a little fuzzy around the edges because he could've sworn he hadn't done anything wrong. It had been a few days after she'd come home from the hospital without Shane and he'd kept reaching up for a hug but she cried every time he did.

"So, that's why Ursa Minor is my favorite constellation." Gus finished in a rush of air, thoughtful smile on his face. He rolled to his side and upon seeing the lost look hollowed in Shawn's eyes. "Shawn? You okay?"

Rolling his head from side to side against the coarse material of his rug, Shawn opened and closed his mouth a few times before responding. "I want to tell you about my brother but I don't know how." Every time he swallowed, his mouth tasty salty and dry. He wanted to tell Gus that he hadn't done anything wrong even though he wasn't sure because he didn't want Gus to hate him.

Gus tried to make light of it, "That's easy. Just open your mouth and make sounds." But Shawn didn't crack a sliver of a grin. Instead, he sat up and stared at the darkening sky pictured in his open window. And he remembered the smell of his mothers cinnamon shampoo, the feel her soft skin against his own when she taught him how to cut perfect straight lines in construction paper. And the sound her voice in his tiny ears when she sang to him while she cooked and he was happy until.

Until he thought of the feel of Shane's palms on the outside of his pajamas, replacing the buttons in their proper holes. Until he remembered the sounds of rushing feet and creaking floorboards outside his bedroom sanctuary. Until he imagined the sound of his mother's voice frantic and broken interspersed with sirens. Until he could see Henry's mourning and the box of Shane's things being put away in a closet. Until he felt Henry's hand tight around his six-year-old wrist after he'd spilled Shane's stuff out all over the hallway. Until he recalled when he'd been old enough to know what he'd lost during Family Day in elementary school.

He had all these fragmented, disjointed memories and none of them were enough. He couldn't remember the smell of baby powder on his skin when he'd hugged Shane with his tiny arms. He couldn't recall his mother's musical voice in his ear when he'd still been her 'Little Man'. He couldn't remember those things and that made them the most important.

He was jerked out of reverie when a hand touched his shoulder. Flinching away, he shivered, eyes still watching the changing shades of nightfall. When he spoke, he was aware of how small his voice was and thankful Gus could always understand him. "Can we not talk for a while?"

So they sat quietly through dinner and through most of the night until Shawn shook Gus awake at two in the morning. He took a deep breath and began. "Today, Shane would've turned twenty-five. He used to come into my room at night, usually when it stormed. He'd crawl into my bed…"


	5. Insomnia

A/N: I have been making some changes to this chapter

* * *

"Let me in! I wanna see Gus!" Shawn barked, shoving through the Gusters doorway. His heart was racing and he was frantic. He'd rushed over after Greg Arison's party convinced Gus didn't love him anymore and he had to fix it. "I wanna see Gus! Now!"

Gus awoke to a loud conversation downstairs during the last month of his junior to senior summer break. He knew the voice the second he heard it and considered not going downstairs to see what all the commotion was. Part of him was a little pleased that Shawn had come over of his own volition. They hadn't spoken lately and the last time they had, it seemed as if they had nothing to speak about. Despite everything Gus had done to try to stop it, he and Shawn had begun to grow apart.

Mrs. Guster stood in the doorway to the living room, hand over her mouth, yet not a hair out of place. Mr. Guster stood in front of her, a stern expression on his face. "I think you should leave, Shawn."

Shawn shook his head, pressing forward, an arrogant whine coming out when Mr. Guster stopped him by the shoulders. "No, not until I see Gus." And it was just like them, just like the Gusters, keeping Gus from him when he really needed him. He convinced himself that they hated him and they always had. That they'd probably only put up with him because of Gus; just like his parents only put up with him because he was the only son they had left. "Why are you doing this? I just wanna see my friend."

Mrs. Guster clicked her tongue with a frown on her face. "I've heard on good authority that you and my son are no longer friends."

Shawn pressed a hand to his chest, trying to slow his aching heart beat. _That's not right_, he thought. Though in the back of his mind, he knew it was partly true. "Who'd you hear that from?"

Not a change in expression, "Gus."

Shawn lowered his eyes to the floor, vision blurring as his head seemed to swim with the motion. He suddenly felt sick. "I just want to see him." He lowered himself into a chair near the door, head in his hands. "Please."

Mr. Guster moved forward, as if to physically remove Shawn from his house and, seeing this, Gus came down the stairwell, a solemn look of responsibility on his face. His mother stopped him as he walked through the hallway. "You don't have to do this." She said at the same time his father added, "This is just unacceptable. I don't want you two hanging around together anymore."

Gus wanted to say, "We haven't been hanging around together lately, anyway, nice of you to notice, Dad," but he just nodded absently, assured them he'd be okay with a smile and sat down next to Shawn on the floor. He examined the dark shadows on Shawn's face, his messy hair and remembered when he'd been allowed to come over in the dead of the summer night. It was a while before Shawn said anything, it was a while before he even looked up to see Gus was there.

Tiredly, "You wanted me, you got me." Gus said, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes. He couldn't imagine what Shawn wanted. The last time they'd really seen each other face to face, Gus had gotten back from his summer internship in Washington. Gus remembered it being odd because it was so unlike their reunion years ago when Shawn had refused to go back to summer camp and Gus had gone without him, Shawn was waiting for him in his room with a ton of new and exciting things he'd found for them to blow up.

He'd been wearing a Tears for Fears t-shirt and his hair had grown long enough to cover his eyes and ears. Gus had ran and tripped his way up the stairs, excited to show Shawn all of the arts and crafts he made, even though he'd known Shawn would think they were lame. He didn't even care because Jason Cunningham had been a fun friend for a while but he kept saying all these weird things and got upset whenever Gus talked about Shawn.

Shawn actually listened to everything Gus said, teased him about Jason's supposed crush on him and tried to act like he didn't care that Gus had fun without him. When Gus was finished, Shawn told him that Gus' mom was way more fun than him and she knew how to make delicious desserts too as a bonus. He claimed that he missed Gus only a little but Gus knew deep down that Shawn had been waiting in his room because he'd been just as eager to see Gus again.

He'd gotten a few phone calls and a few letters telling him that Shawn had had a few odd jobs, made some new friends, but if Kara Green's phone calls were anything to go by, those friends weren't exactly Girl Scouts. When he'd gotten home from his internship it was three weeks before Gus even got a phone call. The worst part was that he hadn't even noticed what he was missing until he opened his closet and the Gustasaurus fell down on top of him.

Now, Shawn looked up, face shiny with tears. He smiled blearily, "Gus. You're here." He reached out and grasped Gus' hands with his own, pulling him up from the floor and into the chair next to him, it was a tight fit. "You're really here."

Gus grimaced at the smell of alcohol on Shawn's breath but maintained their closeness. It comforting in an odd way, being this near to Shawn again. Almost like nothing had changed. "Yeah, Shawn. I'm really awake at four in the morning. What do you want?"

Shawn leaned heavily against him, pressing Gus into the cushions. "Don't be like that, Gus." His damp face fell into the crook between Gus' chin and shoulder and he looked like an overgrown child. Reluctantly, Gus wrapped his arms around Shawn and prayed his parents weren't coming down anytime soon to check on him. Breath misted over the skin of his neck, causing goose bumps as he whispered, "This, Gus… this is what I wanted."

After about ten minutes, Gus coughed nervously and tried to assess the situation. "Shawn, we can't stay like this for the rest of the night."

"Why not?" Came the muffled response, petulant to the last syllable.

"Because you're obviously drunk and my parents could come back any minute." Gus tried, attempting to push Shawn off of him but drunk and resisting, he felt like dead weight.

They fought like this until Shawn eventually sat up, almost falling over off balance. Sighing, he slumped down to the floor. "I need a place to crash."

Gus crossed his arms and tried to refrain from biting the inside of his cheek, a bad habit. "Yeah, why?"

"I'm moving out. I'm thinking of settling down with Mrs. Woods down the road. She may be sixty but she's a feisty old gal—" He started.

"No bullshit, Shawn." Gus cut in, already frustrated with Shawn's avoidance.

Shawn tried to grin up at Gus but he was just too… everything. Maybe it was the pills, maybe it was the way the Gusters now treated him, maybe it was just his life. He was done with fighting. He slowly got to his feet, keeping eye contact with Gus as he went. His heart began racing once more and his mouth went dry. He didn't know how long Gus had had this effect on him but it felt like it'd been forever.

"I need a place to crash because my mom is coming over in the morning to pack her stuff. She's leaving." He bit his lip, observing Gus for support, some sort of sign that Gus wouldn't make him go back. "So… can I stay?"

Gus didn't hesitate before stepping forward and pulling Shawn into his arms. Nails dug into his back as Shawn held on as tight as he could to Gus. He didn't cry but his throat hurt too much to speak, as if he had anything else to say. Shawn knew if he hadn't gone out and gotten drunk that night, he would've died before depending on Gus like this. At least not with his knowledge. "I'm sorry, Shawn," was all that Gus would say and somehow Shawn knew it would be okay.

* * *

The beginning of Senior Year changed Shawn and Gus forever. More than their first fight over partnering with Wendy Glasgow in Science class, more than Joy going away to college and more than Shawn losing his virginity to Holly West in the backseat of Henry's pride and joy, cherry red Mustang.

He'd been so excited about it that he'd rushed right over to Gus' house. He didn't stop to think that maybe bragging to Gus about how he'd lost it with a girl on his first try when Gus had barely even gotten to second base and never tried again, wasn't such a great idea. This thought was forced into his mind when he'd fallen through Gus' window in his haste and on top of Gus' books. Granted, in Gus' determination to get into a good college and Shawn's newfound connections to the kids the Gusters warned Gus away from, they hadn't used the system in a while. After all, it was a lot easier to fall asleep in an empty, dirty house when he had sleeping pills and alcohol at his disposal.

He tripped over the books, rather loudly he might add, but Gus remained asleep on top of his covers in his boxers. He swallowed thickly at the sight of the now visible scar on Gus' right hip from that time Shawn convinced him to climb Mrs. Greely's fence in the seventh grade. Shawn fell to his knees next to Gus' bed, realizing with a shock that he hadn't seen Gus in the last five weeks. They'd never gone that long before. And Gus had called two days ago, asking when he was going to get around to filling out college applications with him, and Mrs. Guster kept asking about him and Shawn had been coming around from a killer hangover topped off with a fight with Henry. He'd just forgotten. About college, about Gus, about the Gusters and about everything that had mattered to him before.

He'd replaced Gus with uppers, downers and anything he could get his hands on. Before, Gus had been everything Shawn needed to keep life from getting too close to him, close enough to hurt. Without him the only way he could safely escape it all came with a price tag in the form of chalky, white pills. But he had Gus now, right here in front of him, at his disposal. He could see him, he could touch him, he could… he could even kiss him if he wanted to. And _fuck_ did he want to. He wanted it more than he wanted to spend the twenty burning a hole in his pocket on the pills Jeremy Sines had in his Camaro.

Shawn scooted ever closer to Gus' blissfully unaware form. He rose higher and tried to blend into the silence of the moment like he still belonged here. He reached out and, with gentleness he'd forgotten he remembered, lightly stroked the side of Gus' neck, heart pounding in his chest the way no drug had managed to achieve. He pulled Gus' face closer to his, as close as he dared before allowing their lips to touch, just briefly before he ruined it with his neediness. The softness of the moment, the stillness in the air, the warmth of the kiss, of _Gus,_ all of it gave a lift to Shawn's heart that he hadn't truly felt since before he'd decided Gus was better off without him.

He fell back to his knees, the rips in his jeans belonging nowhere near Gus' neatly vacuumed carpet. He knew he had to go soon, Jeremy wasn't known for his patience and Kristy Hunt had offered to blow him if he brought her a few of his uppers. He could go, but he couldn't resist staying here a moment longer, his hand rubbing soothing circles into the tense spots of Gus' neck, relishing in his scent of safety and innocence. This was his life, his home; right here where Gus' heart lay.

He was fooling himself if he thought he'd ever forgotten. That he ever _could_ forget.

His heart, his peace of mind, his very soul would forever belong in his first home with the first love of his life.

* * *

Sometimes, when he felt like pretending everything between Shawn and he was the same as always, Gus found himself scanning the crowded halls of Santa Barbara High for Shawn's familiar face. He'd grown taller, again, over the summer and Gus hadn't seen much of him since. The self-demeaning part of his subconscious wondered if he hadn't been just fooling himself the entire time in thinking someone as quirky, as confident as the swaggering Shawn Spencer would ever hang out with Burton Guster, self-proclaimed ferroequinologist and numismatist , in the first place. But then he would remember that time they'd set fire to Mr. Powter's lawn gnome, that time Shawn stayed up holding Gus' hand after they'd watched Psycho and Gus refused to go back to sleep, and those times Gus had spent the night at Shawn's house distracting him from the sounds of his parents fighting.

Those were real; they hadn't been faked or made up. Embellished through age and desired glory but real nonetheless. Gus held onto those memories anytime his better judgment tried to tell him he'd never been cool enough to earn someone like Shawn in his life.

And now that Shawn appeared hell-bent on destroying himself and his mom and dad didn't appear to notice, Gus scanned the halls everyday for the familiar, messy, scraggly mop of hair. It comforted him just enough to see a glimpse of it at the far end of the hall as he made out with some unknown girl or gave handshakes that were nothing like the secret ones they'd made and forgotten four years ago. It settled the shaky, unsettled feeling in his gut to reason that, despite the rings around his eyes, the weight Shawn had lost and every rumor he'd heard about Shawn's new friends, at least he was there, where Gus was able to reassure that he was still breathing, still okay.

So the Tuesday in February Gus scanned the hall and found no sign of Shawn but was able to single out every single one of his shitty friends, Gus stopped dead in his tracks, blood running cold. He didn't think twice before grabbing his back and racing down the hall and out of the side doors. And yeah, he'd had a chemistry test and an American History assessment that he'd spent four hours going blind studying for the night before, but all bets were off when it came to Shawn. Always had been and always would be.

He walked the five blocks to Shawn's house contemplating all the bad things that could've happened. His parents had always claimed his book collections exacerbated his fears into things of Stephen King novels but after he'd correctly identified the poisonous spider that bit, and almost killed he still claimed, his Uncle Burton, they stopped patronizing him. He didn't know what Shawn had been taking and if he'd heard right, it could be anything from pixie sticks to speed. He tried to apply the symptoms of drug use he'd read about on those pamphlets in the counselor's office, but it just didn't feel right comparing  
Shawn to those pitiable men and women staring gloomily up at him through their weary eyes. He was a little worse for wear, but he was still Shawn and for now Gus could make himself believe he'd just been taken over by the Pod People for a while the way he used to whenever Joy got periodically irritable once a month.

He quietly roamed the front yard, going through the bushes until he found the old, brush covered, metal He-Man lunchbox. Ignoring the onslaught of nostalgia, Gus pulled out the spare key and replaced the box. Their system had gone both ways but, more often than not, Shawn had preferred to come to the Gusters' house. That and he always seemed tenser than ever when Henry was home. The times Gus had come over had always coincided with Shawn's mom being home. Gus asked him about it once, and only once.

They'd been lying perpendicular to each other on Shawn's floor, Gus' head on his stomach. "I just don't get it; do you think your dad hates me?" When Shawn didn't answer, he turned his head to see Shawn studying his ceiling with a rueful expression. "Shawn?"

"Of course not, Gus. It's impossible to hate someone like you." He lifted Gus' head from his lap and rolled over to one side, head in hand. "I just want you to see the good parts of me and they don't exist when Henry's around."

Gus had nodded but tried again. "But you said Henry isn't all bad. He seems really nice, Shawn."

"He can be when he wants to. When he's not home." Then he'd crawled on top of Gus, 'Drop It' glare in place as he reached for their stash of candy under his bed.

Now, Gus climbed the steps to Shawn's room, all the while listening for sounds of anything, at all. He cautiously crept towards the cracked door of Shawn's room, opening it unaware of what he'd find.

Shawn's headache and compound hangover couldn't compete with the ache of seeing Gus' terrified expression in his doorway. He had an idea how bad he looked, if the puffiness of his right eye and sore ribs were anything to go by. And maybe six months ago, he would've been milking the perks of it for all it was worth, but now, seeing the blatant pain and unchanging fear in Gus' eyes, the eyes he'd chosen to remember on nights Kristy just wasn't enough, seeing them now, live, hurried him into blind reassurances.

"Hey, buddy. What're you doing here?" His neck was too sore to eye the clock on his nightstand. He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping but he was pretty sure school was still in. Unless it was a Saturday, but he wasn't that out of it, was he? He gestured to his bed and tried to smile, ignoring the sting of his split lip. "Hey, come sit with me. I'm okay, really." He was vaguely reminded of some memory of a smaller Gus in the doorway refusing to enter his room. He couldn't recall the details, but he remembered Gus had been right to stay away.

Gus bit the inside of his cheek against the sting in his eyes and took cautious steps toward the bruised boy, _man_, he corrected. Sitting carefully on the edge near Shawn's waist, he felt unsure of what to do with his hands. Deciding finally on holding Shawn's badly bruised hand, Gus tried for something neutral to say, but instead blurted out, "What the hell happened to you?"

Shawn looked up from where he'd been admiring the contrast in their grasp. It felt like familiar warmth, but he couldn't remember ever holding Gus' hand before. It seemed silly now; if he'd ever felt the urge, he'd most likely refrained because it just wasn't _'manly and heterosexual'_ enough. His heart threatened to pull through his throat but he swallowed it down. "Uh, got in a fight. Ironically, it was about pain killers." He squeezed Gus' hand and tried for a sarcastic smirk. Just like old times, if he could pretend, Gus should be able to. "Guess I lost."

Gus smiled back but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, I guess you did." They sat there for a while, Gus appraising Shawn's sore, tense muscles and Shawn praying for the increased release of the sweet white pills in his jean pockets. Rather than admit open defeat, he sent Gus downstairs for aspirin, trusting Gus wouldn't say no if he wanted to.

He'd crouched his way across his room, moaning painfully all the while. He was on his knees, cold and sore on the hardwood floor with his week old jeans in one hand and white pills in the other when a stab of shame came over him. He was suffering in pain over a few pills he'd only started taking to ignore the pain he'd caused. To ignore the fact that he'd never be able to go back to being that kid that helped Mrs. Guster make cookies and watched Joy singing cheerful Janet Jackson songs in her nightgown. He'd never be respectable again, never be dependable again, and never be trusted with Gus again. And it hurt the most that he knew they were right not to trust him.

When he was high he could see everything the way he wished it had been. His parents were smiling and happy, holding him tight to their chests. The Gusters waved from their house and invited him over to dinner every Tuesday and Friday. Gus was always nearby, arms strong and protective around his middle. When he was high he could see Shane, tall and imposing and very much alive; he didn't have any hands.

When he was high nothing bad ever happened and nothing was his fault.

He shoved the pills down his throat, not bothering to count and crawled back to bed. He was halfway there when Gus came back. He hurried over, set the glass of water and aspirin bottle on the nightstand before helping Shawn onto the mattress. Though he hadn't touched any other the agonizing bruised spots of his body, Gus' hands brought wetness to Shawn's eyes. They seemed to dance across his skin, bringing only softness and not pain and Shawn wanted to scream that Gus was being too nice to him. That he didn't deserve it.

He settled back into his pillows carefully, eyeing as Gus dumped two pills into his hand and handed Shawn the glass of water. It still blew his mind how innocent Gus had remained. So innocent, untainted in the face of the many people Shawn had chosen to be tainted by. Gus hadn't asked for this; he hadn't asked for Shawn.

He took his pills obediently and grasped for Gus' hand again, giving into the sweet pull of release. "Stay with me?" he pleaded, voice starting to blur in his mind. He didn't hear an answer, if Gus even gave one, but he fell away to the feel of an un-calloused hand at his neck.

Gus spent the first part of the night watching muted television in Shawn's room. For the first time he could remember, he felt anger towards Shawn's father. Where had he been when Shawn had gotten beaten up by one of his 'friends'? Where had he been when Shawn had somehow made it home in this state? Why wasn't he here now?

He fell asleep reluctantly next to Shawn's still form, counting the months it had been since he'd been welcome to do so.

He awoke with a start, a glance at the clock on Shawn's nightstand telling him it was two in the morning. Shawn looked too still in the light flowing in from the street outside. His skin was cold to the touch and, worried, Gus tried to shake him awake. At the lack of response, he started to panic. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't go to his parents, they'd make it worse. None of his friends knew or even wanted to know about the things Shawn and his 'friends' did. In the end, he decided it would be safe to call Joy. If he told her not to, she wouldn't tell their parents. Dialing the number to her apartment, he kept stealing glances at Shawn's relaxed expression.

"Joy, hey," his voice cracked and he heard the sounds of a television being quieted. "Uh, it's Gus. I... I need your advice."

"Gus, what's wrong? What happened?" He could hear the worry in her voice but for once it comforted him. She could be the worried one and he could be the calm one, for once. He concentrated on how he was going to phrase it and how to keep it from sounding like Shawn had done something wrong because Gus still wasn't sure he had.

"It's Shawn. He took some pills, I don't know how many or what they were. I thought he was sleeping but he's been out for the past seven hours and I'm afraid to leave him alone." He blurted out in frustration. "Joy, help me."

She was quiet for a while before she answered. "Gus, you know the smart thing to do would be to call for help and then call his parents. You knew that before you called me, didn't you?" She added maternally.

Brushing a shaky hand across Shawn's cheek and swallowing thickly, Gus replied. "Yeah, I did. But, Joy, Henry would never let it go. And what if he's fine and I'm making a big deal out of nothing?"

"Gus, it isn't nothing if you're this worried." He could hear her moving around and he prayed she wasn't deciding to come home now on his account.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Joy."

"Gus, if you need me…" she left it open, knowing he knew she'd always be there for him.

"Yeah." He hung up and sat there for a moment longer, debating his options again, trying to wake Shawn again before calling for an ambulance and Henry a few moments later. He didn't leave Shawn's side until he heard the patrol car in the driveway along with the siren of an ambulance. He'd figured that since he'd just gotten Shawn into the most trouble he'd ever been in, the least he could do was keep his promise.

He didn't sleep that night.

* * *

It was a few weeks before Shawn cornered Gus after school, the rings around his eyes more pronounced and morose than ever. For a moment, Gus wondered if Shawn was planning on hitting him. IT was a strange thought because they'd scrapped when they were kids but never with the intention of hurting each other. Instead, Shawn gestured towards a small corner in the math hall and stood in front of him silent as he peeked at Gus through his thickened lashes before spitting it out. "I'm sorry."

At that, Gus frowned, confused. "For what? _I _got you in trouble. I should be apologizing." He froze when Shawn eyed him, anger lighting his gaze.

"I shouldn't have made you stay with me like that." He lowered his gaze and shifted from one foot to the other. "I scared you, I scared myself. I mean, _fuck_, I even scared Henry." He turned and slid down the opposite wall, staring at the holes in the knees of his jeans. Every so often, he would shiver with severe chills.

Gus stood for a moment before reluctantly sliding down the wall behind him. The soles of their shoes met across the hallway. Dirty, holey against paint stained Converse and pristinely white Adidas. "What'd he do?"

"He's volunteering me to ride on ambulance calls with paramedics. I guess he thinks scaring me straight will make me change my wicked ways. I'd be pissed, but it's so _parental_, so unlike Henry." He didn't mention how Henry had given him that look again, like he was once again mourning the loss of the son he'd never have. He may have neglected to mention that when he'd started choking on his own vomit, he considered not fighting it, or how his mother had taken one look at him, turned around and left the hospital room. To her credit, she'd seen it all before.

"It's impossible to take that many pills by accident." Gus muttered.

"I know." They sat together for a while until Shawn sighed and got to his feet slowly, still a little sore. "See you, Gus."

Gus hurried to his feet as anxiety seeped through his bones. "Shawn?" He called, stopping the smaller boy a few feet down the hall. "The system still works."

Shawn gave a small sliver of a grin before starting down the hall again.

Gus wasn't sure Shawn would take him up on his offer so when he awoke to the sounds of rubber treads on his window sill, weeks later, his first instinct told him to reach for the bat underneath his bed. Hearing a muttered curse and the sound of the window latching, Gus opened his eyes. Shawn was eying him nervously, looking vulnerable for the first time Gus could remember.

"Hey." He tried, standing awkwardly in the center of Gus' room.

Gus stood and went to his closet for a blanket and pillows. He bit back a laugh at the Spiderman blanket Shawn had brought over years ago peeking out from the back of his closet. He could still hear Shawn's changing, slightly squeaky voice in his ear telling ghost stories, adding on to their Scary Sherry legend. He'd been afraid to sleep that night but Shawn had slept peacefully, chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

They set up the palate on the floor and Gus climbed back into bed. And hours later, Shawn's breathing had transitioned into soft snores from below but Gus couldn't relax. He couldn't sleep. That boy on his bedroom floor appeared to be slumbering but he had looked just the same weeks ago. What if Shawn had taken too many pills again? What if he fell asleep and never woke up again? What if he died while Gus was asleep, just a few feet away and useless?

Gus gave up two hours in and climbed down and lay next to Shawn's sleeping form. He watched Shawn's scrawny chest rise and fall like a mantra until, an hour before he had to get ready for school, he fell into an unsatisfying sleep.

This pattern continued for the next four weeks, Gus getting fitful sleep except on the few weekends Shawn didn't appear in his window. They'd begun with the notion that they would take turns sleeping on the floor and in the bed but after a few too many nights found one of them falling painfully to the floor to sleep next to the other or painful elbows clacking together in the night as one of them climbed into the bed, they abandoned the pretense of space.

Gus tried a few times to understand why Shawn couldn't stand sleeping in his own bed. He tried round about methods like asking how his parents were and if Henry had been working night shifts lately but Shawn promptly yanked the covers up and turned over. He tried blatantly asking why Shawn's house had become unbearable but that was met with silence that lasted through the night and left both of them restless. That was the worst, Gus hadn't been sleeping anyway but he'd willingly suffered the insomnia because at least Shawn made it through the night. He told himself not knowing was okay, that it was worth it if Shawn felt safe enough to sleep without those pills.

After a few weeks of watching Gus steadily fade into a weary stranger that slept in class and came tardy to more than one period, Shawn realized with a jolt that Gus hadn't been sleeping. And when he really thought back to the nights since he'd been climbing into Gus' bedroom unknown to the Gusters down the hall, he'd always fallen asleep first. He couldn't recall a time when Gus left his side so he couldn't imagine what he did if he wasn't sleeping beside Shawn. And that thought sent a warm shock down south before he reasoned that he was probably making too much out of it.

He decided not to mention it. If Gus wanted him to know, he would've told him. Gus had always been an open book, unable to hide emotions if he wanted to. So Shawn ignored the ever present circles under Gus' eyes and told himself he was giving Gus his privacy, all the while knowing he was choosing to be blissfully selfish.

Neither of them mentioned their present arrangement outside or even inside Gus' bedroom. Shawn still avoided Gus at school, now even more as he watched Gus turn into the kid he used to be, sitting in the back of the classroom to sneak a few naps into his Calculus class. Unlike Shawn's teachers of the past, Gus got away with it because it was so out of character. And it was; Shawn Spencer was now awake long enough to get A's and Burton Guster was sleeping his way toward an unfortunate B average.

This dance of avoidance and denial went on until the start of April and the night that Shawn drunkenly climbed through Gus' window and fell on top of Gus' prized spelling bee trophy. Startled from his afternoon nap that lasted a few hours longer than he'd planned, Gus rose from his bed and searched his room frantically until he spotted Shawn's tangled form on his carpet.

Standing, Gus marched over and helped Shawn up, now officially too tired and too pissed to let it slide again. "Shawn, what's wrong? Why can't you go home?"

Shawn refused to lift his head, the smell of alcohol wafting towards Gus. A few moments of silence and Gus crossed his arms, not backing down. Shawn looked up defiantly, crossing his arms as well until the sheer nostalgia reached his drunken sense and he burst into a fit of drunken giggles, taking Gus down with him. They shook and tried to quiet their laughing but it was too much for Gus' exhausted mind and Shawn just needed the lightness of a purely guiltless moment.

And after the laughter ceased Shawn sank down onto the edge of the bed. Looking up with glassy eyes through his messy fringe, he finally asked, "Gus, why haven't you been sleeping?"

Gus took a few steps closer, refusing to lift his head. "I've been sleeping fine." It felt flat on his ears so he tried again, "Really." But Shawn lifted his chin and looked him in eyes, disbelief apparent.

"You haven't and I can tell." He gave a quick grin, "You snore. Pretty loudly, like a chainsaw in my ears wouldn't block you out." He snorted as Gus threw a pillow at him and missed. He sat down next to Shawn and wrapped his hands around his knees. "So?"

Eventually, Gus sighed and gave in. "I keep thinking that if I fall asleep, if I let myself fall asleep next to you… then you'll die." He glanced at Shawn for his reaction, expecting him to laugh at him and tell him to stop being a baby. "It's stupid I know."

Instead Shawn bit his lip, upset visibly. "No it's not." After all, he'd figured as much. He suddenly couldn't remember a time he'd been around Gus and not felt guilty. "It's not stupid." He settled on trying to a figure a way to get Gus to sleep. He pulled Gus' arms from around his knees, pushing him back on the comforter. The shorter boy frowned at him but obeyed and gradually relaxed against the pillows behind his head.

"Gus, I'm not going to die."

Gus grimaced and visibly tensed before Shawn's eyes. "How do I know that?"

Shawn lay beside him, anxiously reaching a hand out onto Gus' chest. He thought that was the way it had been done to him, he wasn't sure though. "Shane used to tell me things, all kind of things when he came in my room." He paused, lost in painful thought. "He was my big brother and I loved him, I believed everything he told me, even when it didn't make sense. Even when I knew better. I trusted him because he told me too."

Gus nodded solemnly, eyes slowly lowering until they closed completely. Shawn knew what Gus looked like when he was asleep and he knew he had more work to do. "I can't promise not to die, even Shane probably did at one point; I can't promise that but I can promise you that I won't try to." Gus tensed against his chest and started to open his eyes so Shawn covered them with his free hand. "I won't try to, okay? Not when I'm with you, if that makes you feel better."

Gus shook his head, trying and failing to pull Shawn's hand away from his eyes. "Not ever." Breath caught in Shawn's throat as he felt wetness beneath his hand. Removing it, he gently wiped at Gus' eyes until the tears were gone.

"Gus—" He choked.

"Promise." To Shawn's surprise, he held out the pinky of his left hand and waited patiently for Shawn to link his own together.

"Fine. I promise." He said tiredly, relaxing by Gus' side. It was dangerous lying here beside Gus. In so many ways, Gus was the only thing Shawn had never attempted to have, but he did all the same. He'd done the unthinkable in forcing Gus to stay with him after he'd taken those pills, knowing he'd taken too many. Even before that, he was the reason Gus' parents didn't see their son in the same way anymore. And somehow Gus still cared for him, still wanted the best for him. Shawn felt ashamed that he'd ever felt the need to test it.

"Say it." Gus commanded petulantly but Shawn didn't call him on it.

"I promise; not ever." But by the looks of it, Gus had already fallen asleep. Deep enough not to wake when Shawn pressed a firm hand to his heart and fell asleep to the beat of it.


	6. The Worst Kind of Hurt

Mr. Guster entered Gus' room one morning concerned that Gus was sleeping in a half hour too long. He'd heard from his wife that Gus' grades had been slipping and that he'd been looking more and more exhausted every day, but he'd just assumed Gus was experiencing anxiety about college. He usually knocked, knowing well what teenage boys did in the privacy of their rooms was something he didn't need to witness, but that morning he'd been too tired.

"Gus, you're gonna be late for school if you don't get your butt out of bed." He yawned and flipped the light switch on the wall to the left. Turning back to face Gus' bed, his breath caught. Snoring with a tanned forearm draped across his son, Shawn Spencer appeared entirely too much like he belonged there. Like he'd been sleeping there for a while and suddenly Gus' fatigue became a separate issue entirely.

His son rolled over into the small pocket of warmth between the two of them and unknowingly covered Shawn's face with the top of the bed sheet. "Jesus Christ, just get over here," Shawn mumbled. His snoring ceased for a moment as Shawn managed to move the sheet out of the way and pull Gus closer to his side all without waking.

Mr. Guster decided it would be best to leave quietly, call in sick for Gus and let his wife handle it.

* * *

The space between had all but vanished completely. The tight quarters, the sleeping practically on top of each other every night had changed their relationship in a way neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Instead, they'd made an unspoken transition into snapping at each other whenever the other did something that was now deemed unacceptable.

Suddenly it wasn't okay for Shawn to climb into Gus' window, strip off his clothes and climb into bed practically naked next to Gus. Gus had bitched at him in a low whisper for twenty minutes that night, all the while keeping his knees hitched high against his chest. And now it never ceased to piss Shawn off that Gus had no qualms about licking his fingers obscenely after eating Jerk Chicken when Shawn was over for dinner. Shawn refused to speak to Gus about it until the offender had had enough and smacked Shawn in the head, prompting him to chew Gus out about his bad table manners.

The worst incident occurred after Gus had come into his room after his shower, soaking wet with a towel at his waist and searching for a clean pair of jeans. Somewhere along the line, they'd stopped trying to differentiate between each other's clothes, wearing whatever was clean or smelled the least. Little did Gus know, Shawn actually got a sense of satisfaction whenever Gus wore his clothes and had been hiding Gus' for weeks.

Shawn's hand halted mid motion, moan cut off at the sound of Gus' return. Sitting up quickly, caught red handed, he tried for a casual greeting. "Hey, Gus. How's it going? Shower cut off early this morning, huh?"

Towel clenched in his hand, Gus was speechless and unsure if he was angry or… something not angry. "Yeah, I have to get to school early today." He explained though he hadn't moved from where he was standing. Shawn was flushed and still panting and Gus really wished he wasn't the one practically naked at the moment.

After they spent the next ten minutes staring awkwardly at each other, Shawn got out of bed and stalked over to the dresser. "You might wanna consider knocking next time." He shook off a laugh at the glare on Gus' face in the mirror. Anger they could deal with, the awkwardness was not.

"It's my room!" Gus growled, pleased with the startled shake of Shawn's bare shoulders.

Shawn spun around, "Yeah, well that was before we started sleeping together, wasn't it?" He shouted, causing Gus' and his eyes to widen with realization.

Sleeping together was exactly what they were doing. They never spoke about it outside of Gus' bedroom, choosing to pretend it was normal. Surprising to both of them , the Gusters still hadn't noticed. Whenever Gus felt guilty about lying to them, he'd justify it by saying it wasn't just for his benefit, but Shawn's too. It was a shitty excuse because while Shawn hadn't exactly quit cold turkey, he was nowhere as far gone as he'd been.

They were literally sleeping together but saying it out loud gave it different, dirty connotations neither of them really wanted to think about.

Grimacing, Shawn pushed past Gus, bare shoulders brushing against hot, wet skin. Ignoring how badly he wanted to press his entire body against Gus', just to see what he would do. He took a lot longer in the shower than Gus had and for once Gus was thankful for it.

That night, Shawn and Gus went to sleep on opposite ends of the bed in frustration. They woke up in the middle of the night tangled tightly together with Gus' long limbs trapping Shawn against his chest and Shawn's messy locks tickling Gus' face. They eyed each other quietly in the moonlight and Shawn knew exactly what Gus wanted to say but he didn't express it though he meant it just as much. Saying it out loud would make it an issue, something they'd have to stop to fix.

They were too dependent on this; too dependent on each other for this closeness, but suddenly it wasn't enough for either of them.

* * *

Shawn gets Gus drunk for the third time in his life at Craig Wilson's party. Gus had begged Shawn not to make him go; everybody knew Craig and Michael Clary were friends. He hadn't spoken to the then junior other than to apologize for Shawn's actions, blaming Shawn's temper. Which wasn't quite a lie because even the ten minute exchange had Shawn glaring daggers at Michael from down the crowded hall?

But Shawn wouldn't take no for an answer. He shoved Gus into a jacket and into the clunker he'd been 'fixing up' for the past two months. Unfortunately, it crapped out a block away from the sounds of loud pop songs, laughter and shouting. Silently pleased the universe had taken his side, Gus shot a smug grin in Shawn's direction before making his way towards the noise.

Shawn was still claiming sabotage when they entered the house, his eyes scanning the room for beer and Craig's dealer. And he was so focused on having those little treasures in his hands and down his throat he didn't question Gus' absence. He's halfway to gone when the fear and panic sets in. He hadn't seen Gus in an hour and studying the party in the thoroughly trashed living room, Gus was nowhere to be found.

Hurrying unsteadily to his wobbly legs, Shawn stumbled over to Diane and Kristy, his tongue fuzzy and thick with words. "Have you seen Gus?" They laughed at him, his ears full of fuzzy static that used to be the point he got high in the first place. "Gus." he demanded.

After a short pause, Diane pointed towards the back hallway with a piercing glare for his attitude. He'd been there enough times to know the bedrooms were in that direction. Fumbling his way to through the crowd and spilling someone's beer enough to earn a sticky shower and a bruised eye for his trouble, Shawn makes his way to the back. He bangs angrily on the first few doors he sees, only growing more livid and terrified with each face that wasn't Gus. He kept going, kept banging on doors until the last one opened on its own.

Michael had thrown his shirt to the carpet floor on his left, returning to the warm space between Gus' legs. He'd been reproachful when the younger man had approached him earlier, mindful that Spencer couldn't be too far away. But, alone, Gus had seemed harmless enough. He fetched him a beer, they sat down which led to talking that led to kissing that led to touching heavy with the intention of moving this elsewhere. This was how he'd gotten Gus alone, on a bed in a dark room without his watchdog eying his every move.

It wasn't like Michael didn't understand where Shawn was coming from. He'd been able to see how special Gus was from day one. It was something in the way he managed to be terribly kind, sweet, and talented without realizing it. And in the way he empathized with just about anyone out of sheer habit. He wasn't stupid, he knew Gus' kind of innocence was something to protect. That hadn't stopped him from pushing a little further than he'd meant to that night in his car. He'd been almost thankful when Gus put an end to it and when Spencer found him at school not long after and shoved him into a locker, he'd felt like he deserved it.

But Gus had grown into a man somewhere along the line. His shoulders had gotten broader, his body thicker and stronger, his voice deeper. He'd attracted Michael all over again and some part of him felt it was okay to play with this Gus. This Gus didn't feel so inherently Shawn's which made this, if possible, even sweeter.

Pressing his hips harder into Gus', Michael bit at the feverish skin of the darker man's throat, sharper still at the small whimper that met his ears. His hips stuttered forward and their moans seemed to blend into one drawn out sound. Gus' chest shook as he laughed, his voice, again, lower than Michael remembered. He smiled sweetly and laid his head back, studying Michael expectantly with a forbidden challenge that sent a burning rush of blood through his entire body.

Michael lowered his blushing face into Gus' neck, embarrassed but cheerful. "Killing me." He answered Gus' laugh with a playful nip at the skin beneath his chin. Soothing it with his tongue, he helped Gus begin unbuttoning his shirt, their hips hopelessly locked together. He made a move to pull it off completely when Gus' eyes drifted to his face again, pulling Michael's heart to his throat and oh, he knew this was what Shawn had fought for.

"Come on," Gus breathed, biting his lip until all Michael could hear was the sound of their heavy breathing. His hand slithered lower until he heard the stuttered gasp of breath from the younger man and he broke the silence with a hushed, "fuck". Time seemed to stand still as Michael's skilled fingers found the zipper of Gus', Shawn's, jeans and they both sucked in an air of anticipation when the door opened and light spilled over their bodies.

Shawn took the sight in with bated breath, anger fading into hurt. Michael, topless and on his way to losing the rest of his clothes, on top of Gus, slightly tipsy in his unbuttoned pristine button-down. The light from the hall trickled in, causing Gus to squint up at Shawn from the space underneath Michael's forearm.

"Shawn? Were you the one banging on doors?" he asked, his hand, the one that Shawn remembered grasping tightly with his own, still gracefully planted on Michael's sharp hip bone. Closing his eyes, Shawn couldn't forget how plump and wet Gus' lips were or the obvious bulge in his pants. Or the sight of Michael's filthy hands on Gus where they'd never belonged. Everything that told him Gus wanted this pretty fucking bad.

_Well he could've just said, _Shawn thought, sobering a bit as he attempted to march into the scene. How long had Gus been in here? How long had they been—he couldn't stop the repeating mantra in his mind that Gus was _his._ The bite marks on Gus' neck, where his hand had lulled him to medicated sleep so many years ago, where he'd shed tears over his mother's departure just a month ago. They scarred Gus' skin, they changed him and he wanted to cry but he was too angry. That bastard had tried to claim what was _his._

He frowned, "I'm so high I can't feel my feet. I need to go home." Shawn watched with a semi-satisfied smirk on his face as Gus got to his feet and started to button his shirt again. Shawn stumbled closer again, all but slamming against Gus. "Fuck it; you don't need clothes where you're going."

Gus shot an apologetic look in Michael's direction, maneuvering Shawn towards the door carefully. He had to be the sober one here. The voice of reason. "Let's go, man." Shawn pressed his head into Gus' bare chest.

"Gussie, what is it with you and Michael Clary?" He gave a maniacal giggle. "He's fucked everyone." Gus sighed and yanked Shawn roughly out of the room. _This can only get worse, _he thought.

"Let's go, Shawn." He commanded calmly as he practically carried Shawn down the crowded hallway, apologizing when he knocked into someone or spilled someone's drink. It was a miracle when he got to the foyer before Gus realized that they didn't have a way to get out of here. He reasoned that if he had to sit and wait for Michael to pass him on his way out, he'd have to kill himself. Well maybe he'd kill Shawn first and then himself. Yeah, that would make a hell of a lot more sense.

He was still contemplating thoughts of homicide when Diane Novotny sat down on the steps beside them and asked, "Do you need a ride? Spencer looks pretty out of it."

Gus nodded politely, ignoring Shawn's warm breath invading the material of his shirt. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

Shawn nodded, inhaling the scent of Gus' cologne. He murmured into Gus' shirt. "Take me home, Gus."

Diane nodded, starting back towards the center of the party. "Let me just tell Kristy I'm leaving."

Shawn wouldn't shut up. "Take me home and pretend I'm Michael." He began trailing light, teasing touches along Gus' muscled forearm and Gus felt like he was being punished. Shawn wasn't playing fair, he was being a dick but this was worse than usual. This wasn't funny, it just hurt.

Shawn leaned back against Gus' chest the whole time they waited for Diane to give them a ride. He never stopped running his hands up and down Gus' body, even attempting to undress him. Gus wanted to tell him to stop but he knew he had to pick his battles at the risk of causing a scene.

In Shawn's eyes, Gus was being petty; he was just happy to have him back, right here underneath his palms and safely his again. He couldn't understand why Gus wouldn't just do what he wanted like always. He used to; he used to do whatever Shawn wanted him to do even when he didn't want to. He had to figure out how to make Gus his again.

In the backseat, Shawn began to talk again, head buried in Gus' lap. "Gus, Gus… I'm pretty sure Little Shawn is a lot bigger than Little Michael. Wanna see?" His hands traveled to his crotch and Gus felt like dying in mortification. Diane seemed to find it amusing but Gus didn't and Shawn was trying to prove his sincerity. "Come on, compare 'em."

Gus slapped his hands away and focused on the moving pictures outside the car windows. He knew if he tried to speak, he would yell so he didn't. Eventually Shawn gave up trying to work his zipper and began taunting Gus again. "Gus, Gus, I love you so much." When Gus refused to respond, Shawn's face crumpled and he tossed his head to the side. "You don't love me, anymore."

Sighing, Gus took a firmer hold of Shawn's head and absently stroked his cheek with his thumb, closing Shawn's glassy eyes with his fingertips. "I love you just as much as always." He muttered bitterly. The truth of it somehow made it worse.

At this Shawn began shaking his head furiously, eyes wide open and accusing. "No you don't! Or you wouldn't have been back there with him. You weren't gonna let him fuck you, right Gus? " And Gus shot an anxious look at their driver before figuring she'd probably hear worse from Shawn before they reached his house. He lowered his voice, "Right?" He blinked a few times and tried to sit up, pulling away from Gus.

"I don't know." And he didn't, not really anyway.

Shawn glared at him, suddenly furious. "Oh, you know Gus. You knew the second you went back there with him. Did you even think about how I would feel? Did you care?" He muttered, "You could've just said—"

"Shawn. Please shut up. For me?" Gus tried, exhausted and still regretting allowing Shawn to drag him to the party in the first place. He could've been home preparing for his finals but instead he'd been dragged into what had to be one of the most horrid experiences of his life. He'd been humiliated in front of Michael and Diane and he still had to figure out how to sneak Shawn into his house.

Shawn moved closer and nosed along Gus' jaw line, scathing retort on his tongue. "You want me to shut up," he drew his tongue against the tense columns of Gus' neck, pulling a low groan from the pit of his stomach and satisfaction to Shawn's drug addled mind. "You're gonna to have to take me home and fuck me." His voice pitched low, wanton with suggestion.

Gus bit his lip trying to look anywhere but at Shawn's shiny wet mouth. He swallowed thickly and tried to hold Shawn's hands down, ignoring the way every bone in his body screamed at him to let go. That he could let Shawn take whatever he wanted because Gus had wanted this since he'd known how. His skin was sensitive to the touch and he was suffocating in the space between Shawn's lips and his.

Shawn shook out of Gus' hold and pressed his body against the door, thigh warm and hard against Gus'. "It's like you're _right_ here," He whined, hand lining invisible roads from the vulnerable exposed skin of his neck, down the span of his chest and into the forbidden territory between his spread legs. "You're not _with_ me, but I you're so close it fucking _hurts."_ He found Gus' hand in the darkened back seat and held it to his demanding erection. He didn't appear to notice the panic on his best friend's face in his haste to prove his point. "It's you, Gus. It's only been you."

Gus' breath hitched as he struggled to pull his hand away, pressing harder against Shawn's groin in the struggle, his deep groan shocking Gus into motionless submission. Lifting his hips to Gus' palm, a frail whine met Gus' ears and he gave a panicked glance toward Diane. Distancing himself, he tried talking. "I can't."

"Gus—" Shawn knew him better than anyone and he knew just what he could say to get him to go along with this. Even in their temporary separation he hadn't lost that ability but he found that he didn't want to use it now. He didn't want to force Gus into this, not when he needed it this much.

"I think I want to." Gus admitted regretfully.

Shawn turned his head, eyes meeting Gus' with the sorrow of ages. "I know." He rested his head back on the headrest, eyes closing of their own accord. He released the vice grip on Gus' wrist but somehow, he still felt shackled.

That night, Gus let Shawn have full reign of the bed, ignoring the irritating voice in his head telling him to claim what he wanted. And when he heard the telltale sounds of Shawn thrashing around, skin on skin and painful keening tones of Gus' name in between muttered curses, he felt like he'd made the wrong choice. His bedsprings creaked with the erratic thrusts as Shawn's hips rose and fell, desperate. And Gus could just imagine what Shawn looked like when he came, if it was anything like he'd thought of before. Then he remembered Shawn was writhing around, sweaty and wanting, begging to come in _his_ bed, on _his _sheets where he'd touched himself for years. He chewed the inside of his cheek hard enough to bleed, pressing a palm against the throbbing ache between his legs.

"Fuck, it hurts so bad." Shawn cried and the jagged edge of his voice shook the last of Gus' resolve. "Gus, _please_." Shawn's flushed face appeared over the top of Gus' makeshift bed. The black of his gaze lured Gus into bed next to him, rational thought fading completely.

He tried to gracefully make his way across Shawn's writhing body but Shawn was having none of it. It was as if he was trying to devour Gus. Nails bit into the soft sin of his hips where Shawn drew him flush against his own rising body and teeth drawn across the tender flesh of his throat. It was the most beautiful torture and Shawn was more in control than Gus thought he could be.

"We shouldn't." Gus supplied, voice small with his decision. Instead, Shawn rolled them over onto their sides and Gus threw his head back into the crook of Shawn's elbow as calloused finger-pads traced the well worn path into his, _Shawn's_, jeans. The sheer fact sent a flush of heat through Shawn's body. He hadn't needed to prove that Gus was his; he was wearing his clothes and Gus had gone home with him, not Michael. His palm halted over Gus' heart as the rhythm seemed to echo, thudding in his ears to the pulse beneath his cheek. Breath for breath, beat for beat, they rose and fell together.

The tinny sounds of the zipper were met with Shawn's voice in Gus' ear. "Right here, did he touch you right here?" He panted, his fingers fully grasping Gus and starting the incriminating slide of torturous intent. There was no going back from this, no way of pretending it had never happened. "Like this? Is this how he touched you?" He demanded, his voice harsh and hoarse.

Gus had tossed his head, trying to speak but the dance of nerve endings allowed him to do nothing more than whimper shameful notes of admission into Shawn's shoulder."I bet he grabbed your dick, just like this and sucked at your neck." He stroked faster, tongue graceful as a beautiful crime along Gus' throbbing pulse point. His own pleasure in the back of his mind as he claimed Gus for his own, growling commands into Gus' ears until he believed they were thoughts of his own. "I bet he told you exactly how he wanted to fuck you. Am I close?"

"No," Gus sighed and knew it wouldn't be long until Shawn got exactly what he wanted. "Not even close."

Shawn laughed and tilted Gus' head back, sucking dark marks into the flesh he found there. "Maybe I'm wrong." He pumped his fist faster still, feeling as Gus' body started to give over to release and knowing just what to say to send him over the edge. "Maybe that's everything I wanted."

And Gus came with a scream that seemed to tear his throat apart but Shawn kept stroking even as he realized Gus was almost in tears, sensitive to the touch. Rolling his own hips against Gus' with desperation in his rhythm and tone, he painted hidden messages along Gus' body. He spelled 'mine' across Gus' right shoulder, bit it into his left hip and growled it into Gus' ear as he gave a final thrust and came all over the both of them.

Even in their exhaustion their hands found each other in the dark.

* * *

The strangest part about the change in Shawn and Gus relationship was how much it hadn't changed. Gus wasn't sure what he had been expecting; walking to classes together, holding hands in hallways, introducing each other to their friends. The honest truth was that ever since Shawn had committed himself to be a better friend, they'd done all of those things anyway, before this even started. In fact, Kara Green had even asked him how long they'd been together a week before Craig's party.

Shawn had been a foot away which made the whole conversation just more awkward. Gus knew before he answered that Shawn would cause a scene for his enjoyment and Gus' mortification. "Are we what?"

She didn't appear the least bit flustered and Gus usually appreciated her boldness. "Are you two sleeping together? Intimate?" Her eager blue eyes searched his face for any sign of untruthfulness. She wasn't going to law school without training her investigative skills as much as possible. Sometimes, her friends found it annoying but Gus found it endearing. When she wasn't using her skills on him, of course.

Gus gaped, trying to figure how to answer it. At the time, it was true. They were sleeping together, at least four times a week because once Gus felt comforted enough to sleep with Shawn there, for at least four hours. Shawn started to spend nights at home. He'd been reluctant at first, worried that if he wasn't around Gus constantly, he would realize how much of a burden Shawn's company really was. Fortunately, enough time spent with Gus after he'd backed off confirmed his suspicions were total crap. Gus still loved having him around after all these years and Shawn didn't have to test it.

"Uhh, technically—" Gus had started before Shawn came up behind him, pulling Gus into his chest, chin on his shoulder.

"Technically, we're lovers." Shawn admitted with a cocky grin. "My cuddle bunny is just shy about admitting it." He kissed Gus hard on the cheek and Gus wished he could be angry at the amusement in Shawn's eyes. "Isn't that right?"

Kara didn't seem the least bit shaken. "Well Gus, you could've at least told me. I thought we were friends." She turned around and stalked down the hallway to her locker.

Gus spun around, obviously upset. "Did you have to do that? Do you have to piss off everyone else I know?"

Shawn shook his head seriously, "No. It's a reoccurring battle of decision and one that I fight every day." Then he'd leaned against the door behind him and held his hand out. Gus glanced up and down the hallway for a minute before taking it reluctantly. The light warmth of it and steady reassurance was quickly becoming familiar even if he had started out on unfortunate terms. Sometimes Gus would find Shawn's hand on his arm, or on his back pushing him through the halls or in his own just a comfort, a sign that he was still there. Still alive, still with Gus and he wasn't planning on leaving.

At the time, he'd found himself seeking out Kara at the end of the hall and swallowing a smile at the approving nod she gave him.

Now that they'd begun… whatever this was the most surprising part was how much of it wasn't surprising. He was pondering this when he felt a familiar palm pushing him forward from his lower back. "Come on, Gus. We have to get home _today_. Your mom is making brownies and she finally likes me enough again to let me lick the bowl." Shawn stole a quick kiss before rushing past Gus down the hallway and out the door.

Gus yelled, "Hey! You said I could this time!" He raced after him through the hall. "Shawn!"

* * *

Shawn tells Gus his worst secret, the last of the series, when they were lying on their backs in Gus' bed spent with exhaustion. Gus was halfway to sleep and Shawn was fading fast, delirious with easy comfort in Gus' presence. The flannel pajamas buttoned across Gus' chest, clean and pristine until they started to turn Shawn's stomach. He sat up, away from Gus' image, relaxed and rested against the crumpled sheets. It wasn't enough that Gus was tall and not at all as scrawny as Shawn had been. It wasn't enough that his room was not at all as childlike as Shawn's had been. It wasn't enough to know in the pit of his heart that he hadn't done anything wrong this time. That Gus didn't have a reason to leave him, not that way at least.

Shawn's stomach gave a sickening, painful lurch and he left the room at a run to the bathroom. He leaned over the toilet just in time to puke everything he'd eaten at dinner earlier with the Guster's. He banged his forehead painfully against the porcelain rim of the toilet seat, the pain not enough to take him away from that memory.

Gus followed him in, seconds into it and held his hair back. Even that touch wasn't enough to stop him from retching again. Finally, when he was sure everything was out, Shawn pushed Gus away as gently as possible and sat back against the tub. He pulled a knee up to his chest, a small barrier between him and Gus.

They sat in silence, Gus with shame and Shawn with revelation. "I wasn't sad." He took a deep breath, relief not yet present. "When he died. I don't remember crying. I don't think I really knew he died until Henry brought me home after the funeral." And he was once again thankful that Gus knew exactly what he was talking about without an explanation.

Gus nodded, forcing out, "You were six." He wanted to reach across the space, touch Shawn in some way to tell him how sorry he was but he knew it would make things worse. Shawn didn't like to talk about Shane. It was a rare occasion that he even mentioned him, as if he was a part of Shawn's past life.

"Yeah." Shawn scoffed, vision blurring until he clenched his hands into fists. They sat for a while, Gus resisting the urge to cross the distance between them and Shawn desperate to keep it there. Gus looked up when he heard Shawn sniff, watching as he angrily wiped his eyes raw.

"Shawn," he started, giving up on maintaining the space but Shawn shoved at his chest hard, forcing Gus backward into the base of the sink behind his head. Rubbing at the growing knot on the back of his head, Gus stared at him with apology.

Hands wound together at his chest, Shawn glared at him and ignored the tears trailing down his cheeks. "I missed him. I _miss_ him." His forehead lowered to his knee. "That day was one of the _best_ days of my life." He nodded with conviction, glancing to see if Gus was still listening. "He took me out for ice cream, we went to the arcade and that night," he trailed off, eyes staring off lost in memory. "I remember thinking it was weird because he'd never put me to bed before. He put my pajamas on, crawled into bed next to me…"

Gus shook his head, knowing how the story ended. "He was dead when I woke up. I didn't know it at first. I kept poking him, thinking he was playing a game. I only realized when my mom came bursting through the door with a pill bottle in her hand. Henry looked at me like it was my fault and my mom wouldn't touch me after he died. I never felt sad, Gus, I only felt sorry. Sorry that I killed him." Voice certain but glassy eyes found Gus' for confirmation.

"No, you didn't." Gus swallowed thickly, pain to the back of his head nothing compared to the ache in his throat. He hated the most that Shawn missed out on what he'd been given. He never had to question whether or not his parents loved him, whether or not they'd leave him all alone. It just wasn't fair because if Gus had to pick anyone in the world that deserved it the most, it would be Shawn. He'd never asked for the affection Gus had, hadn't known how to and Gus knew it. That was the reason he'd steadily tried to give it whenever he thought Shawn was none the wiser.

It was another fifteen minutes before Shawn nodded and crawled forward into Gus' embrace. They sat there for the remainder of the night, eyes closed and minds clear. Eventually, Gus fell asleep and Shawn managed to carry him into the bedroom without waking him all the while realizing that if Shane had never died, if his parents hadn't started fighting, he would've never gotten this close to Gus because he wouldn't have needed to. He spent the night wondering if, given the choice, he'd choose having his family back over Gus. He fell asleep unsure of the answer.

The next morning while Shawn was in the shower Gus got rid of every pair of flannel pajamas he owned.


	7. Of Many Firsts

Along with the change in Shawn and Gus' relationship came a new variety of firsts, each more awkward and uncomfortable than the last. There was the first time Mr. Guster almost walked in on them. To their credit, they hadn't gone further than harmless kissing.

Shawn had been teasing Gus all day because earlier that morning he'd found out Kate Oliver had been trying to find the right time to ask Gus out to a movie. At first he was pissed at himself for not seeing her infatuation with Gus sooner. It was obvious in the way she constantly touched his arm, laughed out loud at all of his lame science jokes or produced spontaneous tears whenever anything less than desirable happened to Gus. Also, the sneer she had specially reserved for Shawn's appearance burned hot enough to give the sun a run for its money.

Shawn playfully pushed Gus through his bedroom door, laughing, "I mean seriously Gus, if you're going to leave me for someone else, at least make sure she's not selectively deaf. There is no possible way she's never heard about Michael Clary."

Which was quite true? After Gus dragged Shawn home that night, Diane had obviously phoned everyone in her address book to recap. When they'd come to school the following Monday, all eyes were on them, including a few of the teachers'. The increased attention, the tactless grins and judgmental glares made Gus freeze on the spot, blocking the entrance and struggling to breathe. Panicked didn't cover half of the terror running through his blood as his mind kept reeling through the many ways this wouldn't end well. His teachers would stop praising him, his other friends would stop hanging out with him and then his parents would find out and he didn't know what they would do. He bit the inside of his cheek, textbooks in hand trembling as he was stuck in one spot, unable to move.

Seeing this, Shawn decided to ham it up, yanking Gus' hand from his side and shoving his way through the crowd. Once they were a safe distance away, Shawn let go of Gus' hand and conveniently studied the various flyers on the cork announcement board while Gus caught his breath. He never mentioned it again but he began insisting they start using side entrances.

Now, Gus was caught between flattered and sympathetic because Shawn would never let this go and he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't tease Kate to her face. Despite his better judgment, Gus let himself be led over to his bed and lied down, welcoming Shawn's weight on top of him. He knew he should at least try to get Shawn to go easy on Kate but he'd waited all day long to get Shawn's mouth under his so when he finally did, Kate was pushed far away from his mind. Besides, he reasoned, if Shawn's mouth was otherwise occupied, he couldn't talk.

Arms reached up to pull Shawn's hips to his and he swallowed the edge of Shawn's laugh. Shawn had never gotten over how soft yet aggressive Gus' lips were and he showed his appreciation with his hands. Clawing at his Gus' jacket, he pressed himself as deeply into Gus as he could and he'd been contemplating the consequences of abandoning their agreement to slow things down when the sound of approaching steps caught his ears.

At first, Shawn considered not alerting Gus. The Gusters were bound to find out sometime and he had a lurking suspicion that Gus had already told Joy; she wasn't known for keeping her mouth shut. He'd been thinking about not stopping and letting them get caught like this, together when Gus pressed the softest, barest kiss to the space behind his ear. It pulled at his heart like only Gus could and he gently pushed Gus away because it wouldn't be fair and he knew it. It was always like this, every time he was inches away from doing something selfish enough to hurt Gus, the selfless bastard would do something or say something that made it impossible to follow through. Shawn hadn't been able to skip school, pick fights with Henry or pull pranks for the hell of it because a tiny, Gus-like voice in the back of his head told him it was wrong. And honestly, Shawn would be annoyed with Gus for ruining his fun if the jerk knew he was doing it.

"Gus, in about forty-five seconds, your Dad's gonna walk through that door." He said finally with a roll of his eyes. They hurried to a sitting position, clothes rumpled and expressions obviously frazzled. Didn't matter anyway because Mr. Guster only stopped outside of Gus' door long enough to call out a greeting. He hadn't even noticed Shawn was there. He scoffed at the thought that he could've been actively blowing Gus and Mr. G wouldn't have suspected a thing.

The first time they almost got caught was also the first time Shawn realized he was willing to stop being a selfish prick forever if Gus was around to make sure he did.

* * *

The first time Gus admitted to loving Shawn, it was to the oddest person of all. Shawn had pressured Gus into coming home with him because Henry wouldn't be home that night. The request came out more awkward and forced than ever before because alone had different connotations now. Realizing this, Shawn tried to make light of it.

"Come on, Gus. It's not like I can get you pregnant." He gave a twinge of a smile that was almost enough to pull a real one from Gus. He followed Shawn home anyway, remembering the last time he'd spent the night at Shawn's house two weeks ago. They'd watched a cheesy horror movie, Shawn had done his horrid Marshmallow Man impression and after he'd fallen asleep on the carpet, Gus cleaned up their mess and covered him with a nearby blanket.

Dismissing his nerves, Gus laughed along with whatever Shawn was babbling about.

They spent the afternoon talking about who would defeat who in a fight between Superman and Spiderman and whether or not Aquaman was even relevant to the argument, in between bouts of kissing. It was strange how normal it felt and when Gus mentioned it out loud during Shawn's Batman rant, he'd barely hesitated to say, "Gus, it's _us_. Of course it's normal," before continuing like he'd never stopped.

Eventually, the sugar from Shawn's dinner of Coke and Razzles, wore off and the debater fell asleep in the mess of his comforter and pillows. Gus bit back the urge to either kiss him or draw a Chuck Norris mustache on his face, or both. In the end, he settled on returning the few dishes they'd used to the kitchen.

"Wow, you clean? Are you sure you're friends with Shawn?" Gus halted, and spun around almost immediately causing him to spill the rest of his soda on the linoleum floor.

Hurrying to apologies, Gus dropped to his knees with a washcloth and started cleaning the mess. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Spencer. I didn't know you'd be home." He stuttered out, watching as Shawn's dad started to help him.

"It's alright, Guster. It's just soda." When the mess was gone, Gus set the towel on the counter and the dishes in the sink. He supposed he'd inherited his stringent cleaning habits from his mother who had a tendency to clean when she was nervous. He started to run dish water, avoiding eye contact because he'd heard from Shawn that Henry's investigative skills were not to be messed with. He was afraid that Henry would be able to tell what they'd been doing for the past few weeks just by looking at him or watching the way his left eye twitched a centimeter or some other trick the detectives in the movies used.

"I didn't know I'd be home either. Not that me and my knuckle-head son speak much anyway." Henry admitted, leaning back in a table chair. His fingers tapped the edge of a chipped "World's Greatest Dad" mug as he observed Gus' frenetic movements. "How have you been? Have you applied to any colleges yet?"

Gus nodded, having almost forgotten about the colleges he applied to two months back. It felt like a lifetime ago, like a story from a time in a parallel universe where Shawn had never existed. "Uh, yeah. A few. I actually applied to Stanford first but I don't know if I'm… if my marks are good enough to get in." Especially since he'd only started staying awake in class long enough to bring his average back to some semblance of normalcy.

Henry nodded, impressed. "I'm sure they are. Your parents speak very highly of you anytime I run into your father around the department." He paused, glancing briefly at the doorway to the hall and then back at Gus. Almost uncomfortable, "Do you know if Shawn applied anywhere? What he wants to do?"

Shawn mentioned several times that when he was younger, Henry had made it clear he wanted Shawn to follow in his footsteps, be a detective like him. Having watched Shawn get them out of trouble multiple times with a well placed observation, Gus didn't doubt Shawn had the skills for it. However, Shawn had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with Henry and that included his profession. Gus couldn't remember him explicitly explaining what he wanted to do with his life. Like he said, he was "letting it play out on its own".

"You know, I actually don't have a clue. It never came up when we— when we're together." Gus stuttered before Henry interrupted, good-natured smirk on his face.

"I don't imagine it would." The plate in Gus' hand slipped out of his soapy grasp, sending suds in the air and across his shirt. Deciding to test the waters, Gus turned around to face the detective. Henry eyed Gus inquisitively leaving no doubt that he knew exactly what Shawn and he had been doing as of late. He appeared unsurprised about it. "I was young once, too, Guster."

Gus finally stopped cleaning and met Henry's gaze, silently cursing Shawn's ability to sleep during some of the most stressful events of his life. "How'd you know?"

"It's not as obvious as you think." He gestured to the badge gleaming on his uniform. "I'm trained to recognize these things. For one, you wouldn't look me in the eye and you almost broke that plate, very smooth." Gus suddenly saw the resemblance between the two Spencers. "Well that and when I came home you two weren't the least bit discreet about what you were doing up there. Thin walls."

Gus swallowed thickly, mortified. He scratched at the back of his head before returning to the dishes. Henry didn't sound mad but Gus wasn't good at detecting emotions through tones the way Shawn was. He settled on an apology, at least for the incriminating sounds they'd made. "We're sorry."

Henry chuckled and took a sip from his mug. "Well maybe you are. Shawn's not." Gus nodded, smiling.

"You're probably right." He agreed.

"Any idiot can see how much you care about him." Henry stated, studying Gus for confirmation and he must've found it because he nodded and they sat in content quiet for a moment before Henry surprised him.

"I hope this works out. I really do." He stood from the table and brought his mug over to the sink. "He doesn't come home angry like he used to. Hell, he actually comes home now. The other day, we actually held a conversation without yelling at each other and I think a lot of that has to do with you."

Gus gaped, unsure of the proper response. His mother had drilled manners into him but nothing she'd taught him covered what to say when your sort-of boyfriend's father complimented you on your good influence. Henry coughed awkwardly before petting Gus on the shoulder and starting to leave the room. The unspoken 'thank you' rang louder than ever in Gus' ears.

The first time Gus admitted how he felt about Shawn was also the first time their relationship had been truly discovered by anyone.

* * *

The first time Shawn lied to Gus to protect their relationship occurred soon after the first time Gus had ever talked back to a teacher. It was on Shawn's behalf, of course, because everything Gus had ever done that could be viewed as remotely cool happened because of Shawn.

And yeah, Shawn could admit that he wasn't the best student in the universe. Quite the opposite to some of the unfortunate teachers that crossed his path and left his parents with a trail of stellar exam scores and the worst behavior reports. It was an unwritten rule than any teacher blessed enough to have Shawn Spencer in their classroom required a year supply of aspirin and maybe a prescription for Xanax.

Still, it wasn't fair for Mr. Kingston to fail him for the semester without giving him a chance to make up for the days he'd missed. Granted, he hadn't spent those days, seventeen to be exact, out doing community service as Mr. K so kindly pointed out.

"To be fair, I was providing a type service to a member of the community." Shawn noted, avoiding the accusatory look in Gus' eyes. They'd only begun sitting next to each other in class again, to the jealousy of Kate Oliver and Kara Green. Sure, at first Gus had been annoyed at the way Shawn mocked him when he raised his hand to answer questions but it was the only period they had together. Plus, the only time Gus had casually decided to sit next to Kate instead Shawn had talked his way into Gus' Physics class and made dirty comments every time Ms. Novak said 'penetrate' or 'hardened'.

Mr. Kingston shook his head and Gus watched him go through a familiar debate in his mind; whether or not the argument with Shawn was really worth it. Deciding it was, he stalked over to where Shawn reclined in his wooden desk. "I'm teaching you a valuable lesson, Mr. Spencer. You can't take shortcuts in life. You can't just decide to show up when you want and expect to earn what others work so hard for."

Shawn opened his mouth, prepared to say something snarky and make Mr. Kingston follow through on his threat. Gus quickly covered Shawn's mouth, cutting off his retort. "Mr. Kingston, maybe we can work something out? Shawn's sorry." Gus said, though the glare on the fuming teenager clearly belied his words. "I'm sure we can settle this with extra tutorials or—"

Through Gus' hand, "'uck 'at." And Gus made the honest mistake of removing his hand.

"What?"

"I said 'fuck that' and honestly Gus, what have I told you about washing your hands with that anti-bacterial soap. It tastes horrible." He spat and started wiping his mouth under the intense scrutiny of Mr. Kingston's glower.

Sighing and resigning himself to the punishment indefinite to Shawn's record and by extension his own, Gus tried to keep from screaming. He could feel the keening sympathy bleeding from Kate and Kara, the amusement from the rest of the kids in the class and wondered which angered him more. It was only as Mr. Kingston took a deep breath, gearing up for the rant that Gus realized who he was really angry with.

Shawn had never taken the initiative to work hard. At anything as far back as Gus could remember. When he was younger, he'd been jealous of the fact that Shawn could get everything he'd wanted without having to try. It wasn't just the Gustasaurus but everything they'd ever done together. Playing ball, it was Gus' kick that sent it over the fence. Sneaking out to set off fireworks in their favorite abandoned field, it was Gus that got caught and Shawn that went free when they'd been sighted by a nearby officer past curfew. State wide assessments, Gus paid intense attention to everything his teachers taught, everything they gave out to help them prepare. Shawn finished the test in one of the four allotted hours and had time to sleep through the rest. Months later Shawn managed to achieve a score high enough to rival Gus' and was well rested enough to gloat.

Shawn never worked hard for anything because he'd never had to. It used to make Gus angry but now, it was the basis for his argument. It wasn't fair for Shawn to succeed at everything so easily but it wasn't fair to hold a grudge against him for it. Plus, Mr. Kingston was someone Gus could be pissed at, mostly because the gods had never put much stock in what he had to say.

"Sir, you're failing him because he hasn't been here as many days as everyone else." Gus started, swallowing and nervously straightening his collar as he gained the attention of everyone in the room. "The only reason the school year is scheduled for the state required number of days is to give us enough time to learn the required material. As you can see for yourself, Shawn did that. He has the test scores to prove it—"

"And some pretty wicked drawings of the Thundercats." Shawn cut in. Gus quieted him with a quick glance and for once Shawn was content to obey. Not because he was truly worried about his grades, he didn't plan on going to college anyway, not for a few years anyway. He was content to sit quietly and let Gus work because in the seven years he'd known Burton Guster, never once had he argued against a teacher. Not even that fateful day when he'd been given a loser like Shawn as a partner for their joint project.

"He passed every test, turned in every essay and even finished the joint semester project without a partner. When you really think about it, you're failing him for finishing all of your assignments with less instruction than the rest of us." Gus intentionally avoided the heat he felt in Kate's accusatory stare. "I think if you overlook the usual requirement, just once, it'll serve as a testament to your excellent teaching methods, sir."

Mr. Kingston barely bit out a stern, "What?"

"That a student passed your class with such a high average and a lowered attendance rate. It shows that your methods work well enough your students don't require the ordinary time allotment as those with average teachers." Gus finished and Shawn had to admit, he was a little convinced. He was mostly proud and dreading the two hours before he'd be allowed to show it.

Nodding slightly, Mr. Kingston's glare lessened into an expression of contemplation. After a moment of tense calm, he finally responded. "I see what you mean, Mr. Guster. I suppose it would be a shame to fail Mr. Spencer for the year and defeat his chance to graduate." The glare returned for a moment as the bell rang. No one moved, waiting for the conclusion. "You will be serving at least four tutorial sessions to make up for some of the days you missed, won't you, Mr. Spencer?" It didn't sound at all like a suggestion.

Shawn nodded insistently. "Yes! Yes of course! I'll even bring Gus with me. Shall we have a picnic? I'll bring the pineapple." Rolling his eyes, Mr. Kinsgston dismissed his students.

The class appeared to spring into action like wind-up monkeys as everyone started to leave the classroom. Shawn pulled Gus by his hand out of the room, noting that Kate Oliver wasn't far behind them. Brilliant, he could use this opportunity to get rid of her.

Barely waiting until they were out of sight in a dark corridor, Shawn pressed Gus into a brick wall and took his lower lip between his teeth. Sliding his tongue into Gus' mouth, he allowed himself to enjoy the kiss for a moment before monitoring the hallway. Littering Gus' face and neck with kisses, Shawn listened as Gus tried to speak. "I don't think we should do this now."

Ignoring him, Shawn cut off his words with his tongue. He kissed away Gus objections and had begun contemplating whether or not Gus would skip the rest of the day with him when a gasp met his ears. Shawn processed that it was too high to be a man and too hurt to be a stranger. _Yahtzee_, he celebrated mentally. Slowly separating, Shawn first noted the regretful wince on Gus' face before spinning around to the newcomer.

Kate Oliver stood, books held loosely in her grasp as she stared on, shocked. A sarcastic voice in Shawn's head wanted to ask if she wanted a turn but he knew Gus would never forgive him if he did. Still, she had to come to terms with it sooner or later. It had gotten infuriating every time Shawn found her fawning over everything Gus said, touching his arm, suggesting they go out to movies or exhibits. Anytime Shawn had made the smallest effort to be more than friendly towards Gus, either she blatantly ignored it or Gus shrugged him off.

If Gus was reluctant to share their relationship with the world and Kara refused to inform the blind girl about them, she had to find out on her own, with a little help from Shawn of course. Now, he watched as she shook her head with disbelief and, to Gus' horror, started to cry.

"I've been so stupid." She sobbed as Kara came onto the scene. Taking one measured look from where Shawn and Gus were melted together at the waist and Kate stood heartbroken; she sighed and pulled the teenage girl into her arms. She made a jerky motion for them to leave that Shawn was grateful for. He hadn't planned how to handle this part.

They rounded the corner as Gus deflated from his previous high and Shawn couldn't help but be a little annoyed at how quickly Gus gave way to guilt. It was a bit ridiculous to be honest. "I didn't know she was there, did you?"

Shawn bit his lip and shook his head. It wasn't a lie by his standards; how was he supposed to know how fast she'd followed them? In his opinion, she might seriously consider going out for the track team. _In fact, if she joined_, Shawn reasoned, _she'd have something to do and stop hanging on my boyfriend so much_. Once again, the Gus-like voice in the back of his head admonished him for the sentiment.

Gus continued, unknowingly reaching for Shawn's hand. "We were becoming good friends. I hope this doesn't ruin it." He remarked, squeezing Shawn's hand tighter and Shawn actually started to feel the guilt. _Damn it, Gus._

The first time Gus stood up to a teacher was also the first time Shawn lied to Gus to protect their relationship from the horrible part of Shawn that would stop at nothing to keep Gus by his side.

* * *

The first fight after 'it' started was more volatile than any other fight they'd ever had. Gus couldn't even be sure why it began. They were walking home from school, Gus' face buried in a college brochure for Stanford. Their counselors had been handing out college information all week which had been enough to put Shawn on edge. Though he'd never explicitly asked Shawn what he was planning on doing after high school, he knew college wasn't at the top of his list.

That day, he'd taken one look at the pamphlet in Gus' hand before snarling, "Wow, Stanford. Interesting choice." He snatched it out of Gus' lax hands. "Making plans already, I see."

Frowning, Gus asked, "What are you talking about?"

Reading at the top of his lungs and catching the attention of everyone on the street. "'Stanford offers one of the highest levels of—"

"Quit it!" He tried to grab it from Shawn's hands and almost lost his balance as Shawn shoved him away.

"'We offer a variety of courses for—" Shawn belted out as he danced away from Gus' swinging arms.

"What are you doing?" Gus pleaded, "People are staring—"

Shawn scoffed and tossed the brochure on the sidewalk. "So what? I'm sure you won't even remember this next year when you're…" he stopped suddenly realizing what he'd been about to say.

"When I'm what?" Shawn lowered his gaze guiltily, walking ahead of Gus. "When I'm what, Shawn?" He hurried forward and grabbed Shawn's forearm to keep him from getting away. He hated how everything between them always had to be a cat and mouse game. That or Shawn was constantly pushing him away when he got too close.

Soft hands held Shawn up by his chin as Gus made it apparent he wouldn't let go without an explanation. "When you're moving on without me." Shawn finally admitted, dropping to sit in the wagon some neighbor kid had left in the driveway.

"Stanford, Gus. That's more than a bike ride away." Gus sat down carefully in the wagon next to him.

"Yeah. I know." Gus smiled self-consciously. "I applied and I haven't gotten anything back yet. I don't even know if I'm smart enough to get in."

Shawn disagreed and took Gus' hand. He spoke as he started to make odd shapes with Gus' fingers. "You are. You know you are." He laughed suddenly, startling Gus. "You'll get in and I'll stay here with Henry and your parents. Maybe I'll never leave."

When Gus broke eye contact, he continued, "When you get in, I'll be happy for you. Really." He tried for a smile but it came out more like a grimace and Gus eyed him cynically. "Well not_ really_. Anyway, maybe I'll travel the world. Go to Brazil, Spain, China… anywhere. Run as far as I can."

"Run where?" Gus asked, giving a polite nod to the elderly neighbors regarding them oddly. And maybe it was a little out of the ordinary for two teenage boys to hold hands in a wagon. Scratch that, it was very out of the ordinary.

"Nowhere… _everywhere_; it doesn't matter. I just wanna be the first to leave for once in my life." He admitted, letting go of Gus' hand. He stood awkwardly to his feet, stumbling a little as the wagon started to roll down the driveway. He helped Gus out as they started towards the Guster home.

Gus picked up the Stanford brochure and handed it to Shawn and he took it reluctantly. "You could do something about it. You could grow up and try to get into college. You're definitely smart enough." It was an empty suggestion. Gus knew Shawn as well as anyone could and he knew it had never been in the cards for Shawn to go to college, he'd never wanted to. The only people that didn't know that were Shawn's parents and his own.

Instead of confirming Gus' suspicions, Shawn nodded and started turning the pamphlet into an airplane. They took turns throwing it down the street as they walked to the Gusters' house. Each time it flew a little bit further away, they drifted apart going after it.

The first fight after 'it' started was the second time Shawn realized Gus had every intention of leaving him when the time came. It was also the first time he realized he could be the one to leave first and never look back.

* * *

The acceptance came in a large, ordinary white envelope and honestly Gus felt it should've appeared more destructive as it actively ruined everything he'd gained and confirmed Shawn's suspicions. He couldn't even share the joy of knowing that he was good enough, he was smart enough, dedicated enough to get in. The second the prideful smile appeared, Shawn came bursting through the door, going on about something hilarious he'd seen on an animal show with an alpaca or a llama, he wasn't sure which. Gus threw the envelope in his desk drawer, shuffled some papers and spun around with a curious look on his face. At first Shawn seemed a bit suspicious before dismissing it for an excited laugh and holding out his hand.

Gus grinned, an air of sadness in it before taking Shawn's hand and walking out the door, away from his dream. "Llamas? I hear that."

The hundredth time Gus took Shawn's hand was the first time he realized his future came with a price he wasn't sure he could pay.


	8. Loss

The second time Shawn said "I love you" to Gus it was as unexpected as their first kiss. They'd been lying on Shawn's bedroom floor watching the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, again. Gus was pondering the fact that Michelangelo, Leonardo, Donatello and Raphael had never failed to be present during the most bemusing and wonderfully unforeseen moments of his life. They were like green, shelled guardian angels watching over him making sure he didn't die loveless and alone.

He'd been considering using the downtime to tell Shawn about the ton of mail he'd been hiding in his desk drawer, especially the ones with Stanford letter head. Part of him was surprised Shawn hadn't found them yet seeing as he was the nosiest person Gus had ever met, surpassing even his mother. He'd been trying to force the words out of his mouth, in any particular order really because he'd given up on speaking eloquently when it came to Shawn Spencer, when the aforementioned leaned over and smacked him in the face.

"Gus, you sexy bastard, you haven't heard a word I said."

Gus didn't even deny it. "Right. Whatever you just said is most likely a bad idea, probably illegal and I will not approve." He added habitually.

Shawn bit back a grin and continued stubbornly. "Probably but it'll be fun so are you in or not?"

"In for what?" He asked finally.

"Travelling the world for a year after we graduate. We could go anywhere we wanted. Portugal, Thailand, Italy, Canada, South Dakota… anywhere. And I mean, you never heard back from Stanford right? What would you be missing?" He eyed Gus quizzically and Gus felt the guilt set in a little deeper, paining the inside of his stomach.

He chose not to answer directly. "I don't know why you ask. I'll say 'no' but when the time comes, you'll drag me along anyway. I'll complain but in the end, I'll find out that I either overreacted or was too judgmental, regardless of whether or not we end up in jail—"

"Gus—"

"And then you'll gloat about it for the next few weeks and I'll be forced to—"

Shawn was laughing now, crawling closer to Gus as he tried to finish his verbose dialogue. "Gus!"

"And then my mom will give me that look when I've done something wrong like when I was eleven and you convinced me I could parachute down from the roof with a garbage bag and a helmet—" Shawn cut off Gus' trip down memory lane with his, oddly sticky, palm.

A contagious beaming smile on his face, Shawn said, "I fucking love you, you know that?" Then he tackled Gus to the floor, hands attacking the buttons on his shirt and they didn't talk after that.

* * *

Kara thought it was strange that whenever Gus walked into a room with strangers holding Shawn's hand, he was brave enough to do so whenever he was certain the contents of the room didn't include his parents or anyone that reported back to his parents, he never introduced Shawn as his boyfriend. Sure, she always got irrationally angry whenever her girlfriends started referring to themselves and their boyfriends with singular pronouns, using 'we' and 'our' over and over again as if they'd somehow morphed into one annoying syphilis machine. She would've seriously downsized her time with Gus if that had happened but that he didn't _claim_ Shawn as his when they went out was confusing to her. The need for labels, qualifications and vocabulary were essential to her because she couldn't stand it when things were out of order. Gus would introduce his… his Shawn as just that, "Shawn", "This is Shawn", as if they were just guy friends that happened to hold hands when crossing the street for safety. Though, to be honest, Gus' mother had done a real number on him in terms of following safety precautions to the letter. He never went anywhere without antibacterial soap and a first-aid kit.

So, their situation confused her and that was the end of it, she thought until Freddie Savage's party when she realized it bothered her. And even after, she wasn't sure if she was bothered for Shawn or for Gus.

Gus had never felt the inclination to touch anyone other than Shawn since Michael Clary. Kara knew that, Shawn definitely knew that and so when Kate had come to her for advice on Gus, she'd been tempted to ask her if there was a different Burton Guster running around. It was visible, tentative even, the way that Gus reacted when Shawn was around. No matter if he'd been frightened, anxious or upset, his body reacted the same way as if Shawn was a catalyst. He would straighten up, lean imperceptibly towards the other boy and his eyes would brighten as if a shade was lifted. His laugh would grow bolder, his nervous tremors would calm and when Shawn was around, Gus wasn't afraid of anything. At first, Kara had been jealous, furiously jade with how effortless it was for Shawn to make Gus feel so intensely, without having done anything at all. The reaction was visceral, involuntary and learned over time so subtly Gus didn't even notice when it was happening. So when Kate had asked Kara if she thought it would be a good time to ask Gus out to a movie, she'd been tempted to buy the poor girl a pair of glasses. As well as a can of pepper spray because Shawn could be awfully possessive.

When Kara first met Gus, he'd been going through a tough transition period. At the time, it'd been hard to really identify why, partly because the reason behind it hit close to home. After her parents divorced and she went back to living with her father in Santa Barbara, she was hell-bent on working her ass off hard enough to get into a good college and never having to rely on her parents for anything. She was entirely aware that to her classmates, she would come off as a bitch, a hardworking bitch with no social life. One day, halfway through the first semester of Senior Year, when she'd randomly lifted her head from her English text, she realized that the only other person not asleep or skipping class was Burton Guster, a scrawny black kid with a reputation larger than his size. Determined to have at least one ally, she'd made it her mission to get close to him, at least on the off chance she needed his help with her course work.

In the process of sidling up to him for her eventual exploitation of his English prowess she'd grown to love him, in an entirely platonic way of course. As mentioned before, she could feel a similar sentiment rolling off of him like battle armor and she refused to identify what the feeling was. They began with choosing partners for class assignments, which turned into lunch dates and study dates at the library because both of them were the type to go the extra, extra mile for an assignment. Before Mr. DiMarco decided it wasn't fair for the two of them to be paired together, they set the bar for every project impossibly high, they'd become close enough to call each friends and even if Gus didn't think of her that way, Kara labeled him her best friend.

It wasn't that hard for Gus to worm his way into Kara's life. He was the nicest, most self-consciously generous teenager she had ever met. He showed up on time to meet her, never had to be asked for a hand when she struggled through the crowded hallways and he always seemed able to tell from the tone of her voice when she needed a shoulder to cry on. She went to bed some nights wondering if it was possible fate caused her parents to divorce by way of a clerical error and decided to send her Gus as a peace offering, a way of apologizing. Gus seemed to be a blessing until she was walking with him to Physics one day and watched as a scruffy boy, about Gus' height crashed squarely into him with clearly no intention of apologizing.

Kara had been raised never to back down from a bully and never to show her fear. She stood to her full height, which was a mere 5'4" compared to the teenagers' 5'9". She gave Gus her books and faced the boy before her, his eyes red and puffy, obviously he was high on something and not life like her Aunt Glenda used to say. "Excuse you, apologize to my friend, please."

The boy stared her down, an expression of incredulity before they rose to the frozen boy behind her. His posture, if possible, shrunk lower and his reddened eyes softened. Blinking a few times, the boy dropped to his feet to pick up Gus' books. He gingerly handed them to Kara and gave a sheepish smile before starting off. A feet away, she heard him mumble, "I'm sorry, Gus." But she got the feeling it went further than running into him.

Sensing a deeper story, she spun around with curiosity that ended at the pained look on Gus' face. He was biting the inside of his cheek, a habit she'd tried to get him to break, and clutching her texts tight to his chest. "Gus? You okay?" And she winced inwardly, knowing full and well that he wasn't. She tentatively pushed him towards their class because Gus would've been more upset if he'd been late.

They stood inside the deserted room, five minutes to spare when Gus started speaking. "I know him. Used to know him, before you came back to Santa Barbara." The tone of his voice, it's low, haunted rasp belied just how much that seemingly innocent confrontation had hurt. And she vaguely remembered Gus being kind of close to Officer Henry Spencer's kid, Shane or Shawn she thought. He'd been a weird quiet kid that kept to himself and as she thought back to it, she put the pieces together.

"That was…" she trailed off, noting the grimace on Gus' face. "Whoa, I remember that kid was seriously screwed in the head but I never thought he'd be into drugs." Gus avoided her eyes and started to set his things down, fingering the cover of his Physics book as if he could still feel the phantom hand that held them. "Gus, those kids are bad news. They've been suspended more times than you can count on all fingers and toes. Maybe it was for the best that you guys…" She stopped, sensing that for once, Gus wasn't listening to her. At the remembering tilt to his head, she finally labeled what Gus' armor had been made of.

In moving away from her short-lived home in Arizona, she'd done the cliché precautions, taking everyone's numbers, pictures of all the friends she'd made. Moving back to Santa Barbara, she'd tried to start over, act like she would be okay without those friendships she'd worked so hard to gain. All the inside jokes, experiences that couldn't be relived, conversations that changed her life ambitions many times over. She'd tried to turn the longing, the nostalgia off like a mental switch and in the process, she'd closed herself off to the classmates she hadn't seen since she'd been in the eighth grade.

Seeing Gus that day, frozen in the face of the boy he'd once loved, had never stopped loving, she realized why they'd been attracted to each other. A lonely soul can sense when there are others in its presence. Gus had lost his best friend, maybe more and it was staring her straight in the face.

Now, other than those colorfully and undoubtedly exaggerated rumors about Michael Clary, Gus hadn't been involved with anyone other than Shawn. This fact had never surprised Kara, she just added it to the list of boring facts about Gus but she was unsure as to whether it applied to Shawn's file. While she'd never seen him outright cheating on Gus, she knew he didn't refrain from casual flirting with anyone that responded to it, and some that didn't. It was odd how easy it was for him to compliment a pretty girl on her smile while holding Gus' hand. Kara found it unsettling but she'd grown somewhat used to it.

That is to say she'd grown used to Shawn's casual flirting when it was in moderation. Gus had spent most of Freddie's party smoothing things over with Kate while simultaneously glaring daggers at the uninhibited junior girl hanging all over Shawn. When she'd finally grasped the boldness to press a chaste kiss to Shawn's lips, Gus heard more than felt a low growl from the pit of his throat.

Kara let out a barely hidden snicker from where she sat across from him on the couch. Underneath she was pissed on Gus' behalf, on the outside she found it amusing that Gus failed to see that Shawn was provoking him. Cindy No-Brain may have been hanging all over Shawn, boring his ear off about whatever slutty thing she'd done that week but Shawn's eyes had never moved from where Gus sat.

Finally, "Gus, just go over there and drown the bitch in the punch bowl. You know you want to." Well, now that she thought about it, Gus was too nice for something like that and she might have been projecting her thoughts onto him.

Gus appeared to consider it for a moment before shaking his head and returning to his pout fest.

"I can't do that. Besides, it's probably not her fault." Gus reasoned, and Kara finally had enough of it. Grabbing the bowl of pretzels, she threw a handful at Gus one by one, ignoring his protests.

"Stand up." When Gus refused, she was louder. "Stand up!" Deciding it was for the best if he wanted to keep her hands off of the nearby empty beer cans, Gus stood up. "Now go over there and do something. Your brooding is starting to get contagious."

Gus objected, starting to sit down again. "I can't."

Kara eyed his curiously, "Why not? He's _your_… whatever, the point is: he came here with you." When Gus refused to look her in the eye she continued. "And if you don't say something he'll be leaving with her, not you."

It was a while, through the end of the Tears for Fears song playing at obscenely loud levels, before Gus said anything. He looked up at her, the guilt shining through the small smile permanently affixed to his face. He was reluctant and she could tell he was worried about way more than that slut with her grubby paws all over Shawn. "Maybe he should." Gus suggested.

"You can't mean that." Kara exclaimed, leaning towards him. Next to her, Kate fell onto her side in her deep sleep unnoticed. "Gus, what's wrong?" He was clearly upset but there was an undertone she recognized, a glint in his eyes she'd seen before.

She could do nothing other than watch as the two boys she'd grown so fond of locked eyes from opposite sides of a room teeming with merging teenage bodies, their faces blurred in contrast. All sound stopped, all movement went unnoticed as they breathed together, chests rising and falling simultaneously. Shawn's grin faltered and the corner of Gus' mouth rose a little in satisfaction.

Gus grabbed his coat. "Nothing. I'm gonna go. Tell Shawn I'll be outside?"

Though Kara wanted to protest, she nodded insistently and accepted his hug. Confused disappointment marred the confident smirk on Shawn's face across the room. He grinned and by the looks of it, told the young girl goodbye.

Kara hadn't been wrong; Shawn had been testing Gus and by the look on his face, he had failed. Meeting Shawn half way across the room, she realized why she'd recognized the expression but the realization only confused her more. If she'd interpreted correctly, Gus appeared to be losing something. Or someone.

* * *

Gus didn't think they were being obvious. Sure to his parents' knowledge, it'd been months since Shawn had slept over. But they'd been best friends for years; it shouldn't have been that weird for Shawn to start visiting again. And it also shouldn't have been that absurd to be in his room with the door closed.

None of this was out of character enough to warrant his mother bursting into his room demanding to know why his door was closed. And had Gus' hand not been pressed slick and hot inside of Shawn's boxers, he might've had something intelligent to say to calm the situation. Maybe something other than "shit", which earned a sterner glare from his mother and an amused expression from Shawn.

His mother gaped in the doorway for a moment before straightening her skirt, clasping her hands together and responding. "Burton, I will see you in the kitchen. Now." She turned to leave but spun around, a frustrated expression on her face. "And wash your hands."

Shawn covered a snort with a cough as Gus covered his face and burrowed his head into the pillows. His shoulders shook with nervous shivers but Shawn must've thought he was crying because he sobered from his laughing fit and started stroking his back gently. His hands were making vague windshield wiping motions that Gus found oddly comforting for some reason.

"You'll be fine." Shawn assured confidently. After all, the Gusters weren't at all like his parents and they wouldn't hold something like this over Gus' head forever. And even if they tried, Gus wasn't the type of person you could stay angry at. Gus mumbled something into the pillow Shawn didn't catch. "What?"

"I said 'I'm so fucked'." Gus amended louder.

Shawn pulled Gus' head from his pillow of self-pity. "I'm shocked; Burton Guster just said a swear word." He tilted his head quizzically. "Quick, lick my face and tell me if it tastes like strawberry jam."

Trying not to grin, Gus shook his head before complying. Shawn scrunched up his face at the slimy feel of his tongue. "Nope. You still taste like macaroni and cheese."

Shawn frowned, stealing a quick kiss as Gus' smile started to fall. In distraction, "Damn. I guess that means I'll never own the _Mystery Machine_. Or make human Shrinky-Dinks. This is quite an upset to my lifelong goals."

Gus draped an arm across Shawn's chest, chin balancing above his heart. The insistent and rapid beating belied Shawn's nonchalant expression and Gus realized with a start that in a way, his mom was just as much Shawn's as well. He cared what she thought, how she felt. Gus went along with it. "I'll never get my stuffed monkey back either."

Shawn continued rubbing soothing circles into Gus' back. "Hey, you told me it wasn't flammable. I proved you wrong, didn't I?"

"I didn't think you would set it on fire, Shawn!" He replied.

"Well whose fault is that?" Shawn grinned, smug with the memory. He loved that they could still argue about stupid events from their past because it somehow made them more lifelike, more memorable. They were the series of events that had turned Shawn and Gus into Shawn&Gus.

Sometimes when Shawn lay awake at night he'd see different parts of their memories intensified, like when he'd lived them he'd been missing the truly important parts. When they'd accidentally set fire to Henry's tool shed trying to make jet packs, he recalled the way Gus had stayed over and weathered Henry's wrath with him when he'd been told to go home. When he'd thought back to it weeks ago, his mind catalogued the light in Gus' eyes and bright animation of his laugh before the shed caught fire and the strange way his fourteen year old heart had skipped a beat. And three years ago when Gus had nervously told Shawn about Michael Clary's invitation to the movies, he remembered how embarrassed and jittery Gus had been. How he'd knocked over his bottle of soda three times before setting it on the floor a foot away. When the event crossed his mind a week ago, it was tinged with the barely veiled jealousy and anger he'd felt at the time and was accompanied with the many different times he'd tripped or "accidentally" ran into Michael until the older boy graduated last year.

Now, having Gus lazily tracing constellations on his chest he was reminded of the first time he'd told Gus about Shane. The memory was a little fuzzy and whether that was because it was years ago or because it hurt, Shawn couldn't tell. He knew he told Gus almost all of it, the rest came out later, but he can't remember the exact words. The only part that stuck in his mind was the tickling yet distinct feel of Gus tracing the lines of stars into his palm. How that made it somehow easier to keep talking through the pain in his throat.

Shawn swallowed and tuned back into what Gus was saying. "You know, pyromania is one of the first signs of a serial murderer?" Gus added, indignant.

Shawn scoffed, "What does a small, European country have to do with Mr. Fred?" He puffed his chest out confidently, smiling as Gus glared childishly at him. "Besides you have me now."

"What is this?" He gestured between the two of them. Half of him was afraid to know the answer and the other half wished he didn't have to go downstairs to confront his mother. He was fully aware that the longer he took to make it down there, the longer his mother had time to imagine what was holding him up.

Shawn held a hand to his chest, "Me Shawn, you Gus. We homo sapiens."

Absently, Gus supplied, "Homo sapiens sapiens, actually."

"Whatever, Boy Wonder." Shawn rolled on top of Gus and lined kisses along his jaw. He would fix this, he would fix this so Gus wouldn't have to worry anymore. They wouldn't have to hide away in Gus' room or at his house when Henry was out. He breathed hot and wet on the bruises he'd made along Gus' neck the night before and signed his promise with a quick slide of his tongue. "It's whatever you want it to be, Gus. As long as it's something you want." _As long as _I'm_ something you want,_ he thought.

Gus sat up slowly, pushing Shawn to his side. He sat for a while, studying the shadows swimming across his room. He shot a glance over his shoulder, observing, "It's always been there and we never labeled it before."

Shawn nodded, lying back into the comfort of the covers he'd slept in enough to claim as his own. He lifted Gus' palm to his lips. "I've always belonged to you." Surprised at the fluttery sensation in his stomach, he supposed it was because he'd never said it before or maybe because it stung a bit that Gus had to be told.

Gus didn't know what to say to that. He'd never tried to claim Shawn and he'd never thought that anyone could. Heart rate a little faster, he took Shawn's hand and pulled him to his feet, grabbing his jeans as he went. "You're coming with me."

As he entered the kitchen, Gus remarked that his mother didn't look mad. On the contrary, she seemed contemplative more than anything. Setting out pans, eggs and flour, she didn't acknowledge the two teenagers sweating bullets in her kitchen.

Finally she stopped, leaned back against the kitchen sink and eyed them critically. "Well, I was only expecting my son, but this feels like a bonus." That made Shawn nervous and Gus must've sensed it because his hand grasped his before he could escape. He regretted it almost immediately after because Mrs. Guster followed the action and her expression intensified. "How long has this been going on?"

_Three years, _Gus thought if he was being entirely honest. The first time he'd ever thought to look at anyone that way, it had been Shawn. It was written in his future the second Shawn had stolen, okay coerced him out of, his first kiss.

Shawn spoke up, "A week—"

"Honestly?" Mrs. Guster accosted, eyebrow raised. As she started to run dish water, Gus's frown deepened. An overabundance of snacks signaled a minor upset, constant berating to clean his room meant she was worried about something. Dish water meant his mother was trying to find a way to forbid him from something.

"About a month." Shawn blurted out. He winced as Gus stepped on his foot, muttering "What, she scares me. And I want to keep my dangly parts." He stared pointedly at the knives on the counter. "and you should want me to. I'm doing this for you really."

Gus rolled his eyes before speaking. "Just a month, technically, but you know how long we've been..." he trailed off, unsure how to word it. "How long we've been us."

A silver pan clattered to the floor, startling them all as Gus' mother deflated and covered her face with her hand. Worried, "Mom? Are you okay?"

Her hand fell to her mouth and she looked anything but okay as a rueful smile graced her face. "No. Not really." She turned around, gripping the sink for support. "It's not so much that you were doing… what you were doing. It's not that it's Shawn—that much I figured when you stopped answering his calls in front of me." She studied the curtains above the sink. "And you were always so… hands-on with each other."

She didn't go on and Shawn took the plunge, seeing Gus as too scared to do it. "Then what is it, Mrs. G?" He pulled out of Gus' vice grip and followed her around the island, picking up the pan as he went. Empathy shown through Shawn's arrogance as he pulled Mrs. Guster into a hug and he must've looked pitiful because she cupped his cheek in her hand soft enough to remind him why he'd loved it here in the first place.

Shawn led her to sit on one of the kitchen stools. "You haven't called me that in a while." She noted, dropping her hand to her lap where Shawn picked it up. It was a while before anyone spoke. "I think this is a bad idea."

"Why?" It sounded defensive but Shawn didn't care.

"You've been together too long." She stated, voice soft with the sensitive situation. "When this is over, it'll break your heart. It's just too much. You two have had too much history and you've never had to be apart."

"We stayed away from each other for months—" Shawn started.

"And look how that turned out; Gus wouldn't leave his room, wouldn't do anything but work for weeks." She added, a bit regretful at the way Gus ducked his head in embarrassment. Shawn lowered his inquisitive eyes, most certainly feeling guilty.

It was pretty ridiculous how they never really spoke about that time spent pretending the other didn't exist. Occasionally, Gus would mention someone he'd met and Shawn wouldn't know who they were or Shawn would talk about something funny that happened and forget that Gus hadn't been there. It felt like an entire period of Shawn and Gus' life they were unable to mention because it was lived separately. There were no pictures, no letters, no phone calls from the time Shawn had tried to ignore falling in love with his best friend and Gus refused to acknowledge how much of his life was painfully ordinary and routine without Shawn.

And it was all about to happen again.

Shawn frowned, trying again, "We spent a summer apart."

"Only because Gus wanted to go back to summer camp and you didn't." Then she added affectionately, "And you spent almost every day here." Shawn shrugged and bit his lip, actively refusing to look at Gus.

"Well that just proves we suck at being apart. How's that bad?" Gus supplied, feeling the heat of Shawn's eyes on his face, evaluating the determination he found here. If he was unsure before, he was sure now. Shawn really wanted this, really wanted him. He bit the inside of his cheek, remembering the envelope in his desk drawer Shawn hadn't found yet. It was his doing really, every time Shawn got close, Gus dragged him away with kisses or he used Shawn's appetite to his advantage.

"Things don't always work out the way you think they will, Gus." With that, Mrs. Guster squeezed Shawn's hand in hers, needed some sign they wouldn't shut her out for telling them how she felt.

"I know that." He insisted, quite petulant. Shawn stood in the middle, lost in thought. Of course it would end, all things would eventually. Nobody ever really stayed, not with him anyway.

"I don't think you do, sweetheart." She admitted. To Shawn, "I'm happy that you found something to hold on to. I'm even happy to see that it's brought back parts of that sweet boy I missed. But this won't end well, for either of you."

Gus shook his head and left the kitchen, voice low with anger. Shawn stayed, grip as strong as ever. "I love your son."

She agreed, hugging him tight to her chest where she smelled like sweet desserts from his past. Realizing with a jolt, throughout much of his life, almost more than half of it, Mrs. Guster had been there in the background. Teaching him to fend for himself, lessons his mother hadn't been around long enough to teach. Always willing to let him stay over on nights Henry couldn't get off work to come home. She'd picked him up from school on days when it rained or Gus was too scared of the threat of electrocution to walk. "I know you do."

"I can visit, I can call, I can write." He insisted but it sounded empty to his own ears. He could feel his defense slipping through his fingers, weak around all the holes he'd ignored in his logic.

"And when that's not enough?" She asked, patting his shoulder before standing to begin making dinner. Shawn didn't reply; he didn't have an answer. Instead, he retrieved the extra apron from the cabinet and assisted Mrs. Guster, the menial labor keeping his mind free to figure out how to get Gus to run away with him.


	9. Just Breathe

A/N: This is the last chapter of this story. The second part of the "Postcards Verse" will be up soon. I appreciate the responses from everyone that stuck with this story to the end and hope you guys will like the sequel too. I think it's funny that this story erupted while I was working on the sequel to "Breakeven" and kinda took over. Anyway, here is the last part and keep an eye out for the sequel "Wish You Were Here"

* * *

When Mrs. Guster decided to throw a graduation party, Gus was utterly shocked Shawn volunteered to help. Through the end of their senior year, anytime their teachers spoke about college scholarships or the graduation ceremony, Shawn closed off or became more cynical and spiteful than before. Gus figured he was getting pressure from Henry about his apathy towards his future. That or his plans to travel the world and see "the great sights… nude beaches, exotic food, different cultures… but mostly nude beaches, Gus", weren't coming along as well as he'd expected.

So when he woke Gus early one Saturday morning with a crazed grin on his face and the smell of smoke in the air, he was sure Shawn had burned his house down. "Gus, Gus come on! Wake up!" He shook Gus' shoulders and threw the comforter back. Pulling at Gus' arms, he dragged the younger boy out of bed. "Wake up! You were right, I can't do this by myself."

Sleepily sitting up and getting to his feet, Gus rubbed at his eyes. "Shawn, what's going on? I thought you slept at your house last night?" He allowed himself to be pulled out of his bedroom, stumbling over shoes and clothes littering his floor. He followed Shawn down the stairs, vaguely paying attention to what he was saying.

"I did, but if I'm gonna make this cake I need your help so get your cute little tuchus down here and help me. Seriously, Gus, you're being dangerously unhelpful." He muttered, dropping Gus' hand as he hurried around the cluttered island.

"You're right, Shawn. How dare I sleep at…" Gus nodded and eyed the clock over the stove. "Six twenty-seven on a Saturday morning? I must be insane." Shawn didn't respond, too busy shoveling out ingredients from the fridge and pantry. "Why are you making it now anyway? The party is next week."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I have to practice." He insisted, shoving Gus towards the silverware drawer. "Grab a spoon."

The erratic behavior was taking some getting used to. In the past few weeks, Shawn appeared to have been possessed by a creepy doppelganger that liked going to museum exhibits with Gus and had no trouble being nice to Kate. The strange creature didn't complain once when Gus invited Henry to their graduation and just smiled when Kate demanded Gus' first dance at their prom. And yeah, maybe in the past Gus had wished Shawn would be more supportive, less of a relentless dick to his friends, less confrontational but now, having seen it in person he wanted to eat his words.

Everything he didn't know he loved about Shawn had faded away somehow. That wasn't to say that he didn't still love him, he did and didn't know how he'd go about stopping; or even if he could. But the person he loved didn't seem to be here anymore. Shawn no longer forced Gus into dangerous stunts or pranks just for the hell of it. He didn't go out of his way to annoy him or alienate his friends. Gus almost lost it the day Shawn sat and listened to Kate's college essays and even offered genuine feedback. He wanted to scream at him, ask him what the hell he'd done wrong when he realized that he'd kept the Stanford acceptance letter a secret for two months now and the guilt had nearly evaporated.

He figured Shawn turning into a different person was punishment for the lie and he blamed his mother for drilling the idea of karma into his skull.

So if Shawn wanted to throw himself into making a cake, throwing a graduation party, Gus had to suck it up and go along with it. Sure hands tied an apron around his waist and shoved a bowl of cake mix into his arms. "Here. You can get started stirring and I'll start with the frosting."

Shawn eyed him for confirmation but spun around without it. They worked in silence for a moment before Gus' nervousness caused him to break it. "You remember that time we tried to make brownies at your house?"

A laugh as Shawn nodded his head. "Yeah, I do. That was insane." His head tilted back at the ceiling with the memory. "We got flour everywhere."

Coming closer, Gus joined in the laugh. "Yeah. And we never actually made the brownies."

"Well it was your idea to eat the batter as we went along." Shawn insisted, setting the mixing spoon down and facing Gus. His eyes were alight with the first real fire Gus had seen in a while and his breath caught with the want to keep it there. _This,_ he thought, _this is what I've been missing._ Grinning, Shawn continued. "I got so sick after that."

Remembering, "Yeah, me too. I was such a loser back then. I don't even know why you hung out with me." He admitted, returning the smile until Shawn's started to fall. The same distant expression returned with the addition of one of resolute conviction. He returned to mixing the topping for the cake, clearly upset with something Gus had said.

They didn't speak as Gus finished mixing the cake mix. He set the bowl down on the counter and anxiously stood in the middle of the kitchen waiting for Shawn to acknowledge him. Finally, "Shawn, I'm finished."

Refusing to look at him, Shawn nodded absently. "Yeah? Just set it down on the counter." Gus sighed in frustration and started back up the stairs. It seemed impossible to predict Shawn's moods lately, he never knew when he was in for this chilly counterpart.

As he climbed the third step he could've sworn he heard Shawn mutter, "You were the coolest kid I knew. It took me way too long to realize it." And an hour later Shawn crawled into bed beside him, curling his arms around Gus' slumbering form, Gus knew he'd heard correct.

If Shawn squeezed him a little too tight to breathe comfortably, Gus figured he deserved it. "Have you thought about how you're going to say goodbye?" Shawn whispered and Gus knew he meant his, _their_, mom.

"No." He responded honestly. He didn't know how to say his goodbyes because he wasn't sure who would be receiving them. The countdown had begun and time was speeding towards Gus before he even had time to process his options, what was left of them. For the second time, he felt that same vice grip painfully across his ribs. He ducked his head, reaching for Shawn's hands and realized they were at his waist.

* * *

Gus came home one day after a Student Council meeting to find Shawn in his room, buried in a pile of colorful brochures. For a panicked moment, he thought Shawn had gone through his desk drawers and found everything. He contemplated dropping his bookbag and making a run for it. He started calculating whether or not he could get to the front door before Shawn and unconsciously toed his loafers off.

Shawn finished reading and looked up with a bright smile and Gus was trying to figure out if that was a good sign or not. Shawn had been moody the past two weeks, cheerful and optimistic one day and upset and furious the next. Gus was walking on eggshells, preoccupied with Shawn's sudden change in personality and his own dishonesty.

Shawn gestured for Gus to come forward, almost shaking with excitement. "Gus-Gus, come look at this. I've been trying to decide where we should go first. I considered throwing these in a hat and picking randomly but I know how much you like to have everything together and organized for your "Decision Making Program" so I've been waiting here for you."

He grabbed Gus' hand and eyed him, grin crooked with self-conscious courtesy and tried to take a deep breath, feeling of overwhelmed. Knowing Shawn, including his little quirks both annoying and charming, he knew how used he was to making rash decisions. He once wrote an entire English paper on the benefits of planning to have no plan and, much to Kara's chagrin, had earned a top grade on it. Gus had known this, expected to have to help his friend out of several sticky situations in the future. That was who Shawn was, reckless, spontaneous and impulsive, everything Gus wasn't and could never be.

This , this gesture, this offering to let Gus have his way, just this once, took Gus' breath away. Instead of finally confessing about his acceptance, owning up to the guilt that had been causing his asthma to make an unwelcome comeback, he attacked the possibility of Shawn's options. "How are we supposed to afford to go anywhere further than Anaheim?"

Shawn squeezed his hand, bright smile returning again. "Gus, my Mom had been trying to introduce me to the world ever since she found out I didn't want to go to college right away. Plus my Grandpa William, Henry's Dad, left me a ton of money. I've got it covered."

Gus nodded and tried to smile back but his heart was pounding out of his chest. Graduation was coming sooner and his lies were coming to fruition.

* * *

The night of their high school graduation wasn't a festive occasion for Shawn or even Gus. The Gusters threw a dinner party in celebration. Joy flew in and Henry even switched shifts to attend. Though Shawn denied it, Gus could see the pride in his eyes watching as Shawn trudged across the stage to get his diploma. He relished in the thought in between wondering why Principal Weathers had given him such an odd look when he'd received his own.

Seeing their parents commiserating with each other over food was bittersweet. Amazing as the image was, Shawn was stuck on the countdown until Gus and he left them indefinitely. Gus was stuck on how he could possibly tell Shawn that he'd gotten into Stanford and neglected to tell him. How he'd looked Shawn in the eye for the past two months and lied straight to his face. They'd been hovering around each other all night. It was an unspoken fact to each of them that they were biding the time until they could be alone.

Joy found Gus in the kitchen, lips pressed urgently against Shawn's as he sat on top of the counter. Shawn was laughing into the kiss about something while keeping Gus from jumping down. Palms holding Shawn in place, Gus thrust his tongue into Shawn's mouth, tasting the chocolate frosting from the cake they'd made earlier.

Swallowing a grin, Joy said, "Mom's gonna kill you for this. You know how she is about keeping the kitchen spotless."

Shawn pulled away, straightening his button down shirt as Gus hopped down. Joy finally saw what was so funny. "Has Dad seen?" She asked Shawn, ignoring the confusion on her little brother's face.

Shawn chuckled and shook his head. "I don't know, Gus hasn't even noticed yet." He gestured at the anxious on his boyfriend's face.

"Noticed what?" Gus asked, eyes traveling between the two. He settled on Shawn. "What did you do?"

Joy gave him a reassuring smile, proud really. "Gus, I never thought I see the day you had to hide a hickey from Mom and Dad." A trail of red marks made its way down from the skin beneath Gus' chin until they disappeared in the pristine collar of his shirt.

Gus glared pointedly at Shawn, flustered obviously. "When did it get there?" He asked Shawn who apparently still thought it was amusing. Part of Gus was painfully confused and happy that Shawn was acting more like the guy he loved, the guy he'd missed these past few weeks.

"They, you mean, and I don't know. Last night, this morning… five minutes ago." Shawn started, laughing and Gus slapped his ass in reply.

"You're a jerk!" Gus pushed past him toward his sister. "Joy, can I borrow a mirror?"

And as much fun as it would've been to see Gus try to hide the darkening lovebites from Dad, she unzipped her purse and handed it over. "You told me they already knew."

Gus nodded absently, examining his neck in the mirror. "Mom does and I assumed Dad doesn't because he hasn't killed Shawn yet. We almost got caught twi- Shawn! What they—they're not even just on one side." He tilted the compact to the side frown deepening as he went. "This is obsessive."

Joy bit back a laugh and eyed Shawn satisfied smirk. "I know! Isn't it great? If you connect 'em, they make out Abraham Lincoln. Or was it the Pink Panther? I don't remember, Gus, it took a while." He turned Gus by the shoulders, tilting his head to study his work. And she wasn't sure when it changed but Shawn's expression became sweet, affectionate. He kissed Gus for a moment and melted the stress lines from his face with his fingertips. Pulling away, Shawn muttered, "I was dedicated."

Joy lowered her gaze to the impressive cake Shawn and Gus had made for the occasion. She'd always felt like an outsider around Shawn and Gus but now was the first time she could remember feeling like she was witnessing a part of their relationship she wasn't meant to see. She couldn't make out Gus' whispered response but it had something to do with pop rocks and root beer.

She raised her eyes when Shawn pet Gus on the head and left the kitchen calling, "They've been there since this morning and I've been waiting for you to notice," over his shoulder. Gus looked as if he was going to go after before deciding against it and climbing back onto the counter.

"I don't know if you're good for each other, but you definitely have something I've never seen before." Joy stated, crossing her arms and leaning against the opposite counter. Sometimes it still blew her mind how much Gus had grown up while she was away in school. It wasn't just that he was taller, less scrawny and that his head had finally figured out how to measure up to his ears. He was more solid, somehow. He was more comfortable with the world, less naïve but she found that she didn't miss the innocence.

Shawn was good for him.

Gus looked up as if he hadn't realized she'd been standing there and she wasn't surprised. "You think Mom's right?"

Joy shook her head adamantly. "No, I didn't say that. She's not completely wrong but Gus," She stepped closer and hugged him tight to her chest. She couldn't help but remember when Gus had been only half her height, only big enough to hug his head to her stomach. "Shawn is… really special. He cares about you and anyone can see that."

Gus nodded against her shoulder and finally let himself slide over into the weariness he'd been feeling for the past six hours. Shawn's distance and fluctuating mood, his mother's insistent clinginess, his father's incessant talk of his future had all started to drag him down. If he wasn't constantly in a state of untruthfulness around Shawn, he was assuring his mother he hadn't made a mistake in staying with Shawn and being selectively vague about his college acceptances whenever his father asked about them. Joy's arrival had brought up an unpredictable sense of gratefulness because she hadn't belied anything other than pride at his graduation.

"I don't think I can handle this anymore. I can't fix anything and Shawn wants me to spend a year around the world with him." He confessed, not caring to see if they were still alone. "I can't tell him I'm going away."

Joy blinked rapidly at the onslaught of confusing information. "What do you mean 'going away'? Where are you going, exactly?"

Gus pulled her closer and whispered, "I got into Stanford—"

Her eyes grew larger and her excited squeal was cut off with Gus' hand. "Shh! You have to be quiet." He insisted, eyes studying the kitchen entrance.

When she'd lowered her voice and the sisterly glare appeared, Gus pulled his hand away. He watched as she spit a few times and wiped her mouth. "Gus, antibacterial soap, again? I think I will regret letting those medical documentaries babysit you when we were younger." Spitting a few more times, the pride returned to her eyes. "Gus, you got into Stanford. That's huge." At Gus' somber expression, she took his hand in hers. "Why aren't we allowed to be happy about this?"

"Because I haven't told anyone. I keep stealing the mail, everyone's mail." He frowned mournfully. "Dad keeps blaming Old Man Fuller. I think it's become a real problem and I don't even feel guilty anymore."

Stifling a laugh, Joy kept questioning him. "Why can't you tell anyone? I don't know if you've heard, but this is good news, Gussy." She nodded insistently and pet his head like he was five again. Most of those memories were accented with the sparkly, metallic stickers she'd used to decorate Gus' head when he fell asleep.

"It should be but it's not. All I feel is… guilty. How can I tell them—tell him that I've been lying to him for the past two months?" He admitted, worriedly eying the door again like his tormentors would walk in any minute. "He'll hate me. He'll hate me for leaving, he'll hate me for lying to him. I can't tell him, Joy, I just… I just can't, but the longer I wait, the worse it gets."

"Oh, Gus." If he was as frank as he wanted to be, Gus would've told her that the bleeding sympathy on her face only made him feel worse.

"And Shawn's trying so hard, he's being so supportive. He's trying so hard, he's even taking the time to plan things out, all for me. I feel so horrible, but what else can I do? Either I tell him now or Mom and Dad eventually find out and tell him by accident; either way it hurts."

Seeing the dilemma, Joy pulled him into her arms. It was all she felt she could give because she couldn't figure a way out of this other than honesty. Joy pulled back, sympathy apparent in her features. "Mom, Dad, Shawn… they all want what's best for you . I'm not going to tell you there's an easy solution because I don't think there is. They're gonna find out eventually and it's gonna suck. Is it better if he finds out from you or by accident?"

Gus nodded, doubt apparent on his face and the desperate way he pulled her into his arms. They stayed that way, Joy swaying a little on her feet until their mother entered the kitchen in search of the cake.

"Sweetheart, Shawn is waiting for you." His mother said sternly, retrieving the cake and starting to retreat.

"I know." And as Gus left the kitchen, his mother and sister exchanged knowing looks of shared worry.

* * *

The guests left and Shawn and Gus helped the Gusters clean up. As a reward and a result of her good mood, Mrs. Guster didn't object to Shawn spending the night. Also, Mr. Guster's confusion as to why Shawn hadn't been allowed in the first place might've had something to do with it. They left to see Joy off to her late flight, leaving Shawn and Gus alone in the house.

After everything had been cleaned and put away, Shawn turned to Gus with a forlorn expression on his face and held out a somber hand. Almost unsure of whether or not he should take it, Gus grasped it tightly in his own and let himself be led upstairs.

Shawn sat him down gingerly on the bed and set to unbuttoning the spotless white shirt covering Gus' chest. Once he was finished, he placed a shaky palm over Gus' heart, dedicating the rhythm to memory. He pulled the ends off of Gus' shoulders when their eyes met. The sorrow he saw there was enough to dissipate any facade he had left. He continued to undress Gus until he was down to his boxers and watching Shawn with a reproach.

As Shawn stood to undress his own clothes, Gus finally spoke. "Shawn, are you okay?"

He nodded ardently and continued to add to the pile of clothes on the floor next to the bed, their bed. "Yeah, I'm fine." And he wasn't quite sure why his throat was closing in on its self.

Gus pulled him forward by the waist staring up at him. "You're crying." He whispered reaching up to Shawn's face but his wrist was shackled in Shawn's grip. Eyes widening as fear actually set in, Gus looked to him for some sign of his thoughts. A test of wills as neither moved for a moment, Shawn's eyes black with his conflicted emotions and Gus' wide with the fear of them.

Finally Shawn dropped his arm and lowered his accusing gaze. "Probably. I've been up since five trying to make everything for this party perfect. Everything had to be fucking perfect, everything just right for your special day." He bit out, stepping away from Gus as his breath started to return.

"Why did you?" Gus asked somberly, watching as Shawn stalked across his room in his boxers. The scar of the left side of his chest stood out in his weary mind. He got that wrestling with Gus in his backyard after Gus ratted him out for gluing Joey Woods to his desk. At the time Gus had been pissed at Shawn for expecting him to lie because until Shawn, he'd never had friends that expected him to provide false alibis. Remembering it now, Gus thinks that might've been around the time Shawn taught him it was okay to lie.

"What?"

"Why did you do all of this? Any of it, helping Kate with her essays when you obviously haven't liked her since you met, coming with me to community service at the police station when you hate being around police officers? Why do any of it?" He tilted his head when Shawn avoided his eyes. "I mean, you _hate_ this stuff—"

"Because I thought it would make it easier for you to say goodbye. You're going to be leaving everything you know, for me and… I just wasn't sure you would think I was worth it." Shawn exclaimed, shocking Gus into silence. He stopped pacing and marched over to where Gus sat, smaller than him on the bed. "I don't want you to feel like you're making a huge mistake staying with me. You know, like your Mom thinks you are."

Gus ducked his head, hands grasping his ribs painfully and gasping for breath. He sunk lower, getting out in a raspy voice. "You're worth it. You are … don't know what I was thinking." He managed to gaze into Shawn's eyes with solidarity. "It'd be too hard to leave now."

Shawn shook his head, unconvinced and sinking onto his knees to come closer. He lifted Gus' head gently, seeing his struggle for breath. "Gus? Gus look at me." He commanded, gaining glazed eye contact at best. "Where's your tubey thing?" He demanded, eying his face for an answer guessing that Gus was having a hard time speaking.

Gus blinked rapidly and gestured towards his desk before the thought set in. He sat up, getting onto unsteady feet. Trying, "Shawn… wait…." But his voice was too low to be understood and the other boy was already tearing apart his drawers. He got to the bottom one and Gus was almost glad it was jammed until Shawn continued jerking the handle.

Gus settled onto the floor, lowering his head into his hands as the attack started to pass. It was too late, he heard the scraping sounds of wood cracking and heard a small gasp as hundreds of envelopes, many different colors and sizes rained down on them, surrounding Shawn. It was quiet with the exception of paper fluttering to the floor around them and Gus lifted his head and instantly wished he hadn't.

As the multicolored papers and pamphlets fell to the carpet, Shawn sat on top of his knees, mouth in a thin line making it clear he'd read the incriminating letterhead. Surrounding him in an uneven circle, the tons of envelopes lay, high enough to cover Shawn's knees. Gus met his eyes, heart beating rapidly as Shawn shook his head disbelief marring his face. Gus lowered his head, feeling his inhaler knocking into his chest around the same time the broken drawer crashed into the closet door.

Above their heads, the force of the slam caused a familiar, relic covered in cracked green paint and dust of their past to tumble to the bedroom floor and fall to pieces neither of them rose to gather.

* * *

Gus was well into his second year at Stanford when the first one came. A green dinosaur was pictured on the front with a message of "Greetings from Toronto, Canada". Gus turned it over hesitantly, seeing in familiar messy scrawl, the words "Wish you were here."

End of Part I of "_Sending Postcards from the End of the World (Wish You Were Here)_"


End file.
